Why a sociopath and a psychopath hardly make a good couple
by Sherlocked5
Summary: This is a AU with Fem!Moriarty. The great Moriarty is actually a woman, a woman Sherlock will fall for. Gemma Moriarty never thought, she d such a mundane thing like a heart, she couldn t have been more wrong!
1. Chapter 1

Why a sociopath and a psychopath hardly make a good couple – because in the end one of them dies

**NOTE: I do not own Sherlock or anything else, sadly I own nothing. It all belongs to BBC, Moffat, Gatiss and Doyle.****If you like review! I´m not a native speaker as you may will realize during reading :) I hope to update regulary a big part of the story is already finished. So I hope you like it.**

"I like to keep my enemies closer than my mirror ever gets to me"*

Sherlock remained standing at the left side of the pool. A sign of horror shot over his face, when he realized, John was clothed in explosives. The red dot dancing over his chest.

'Bloody Snipers'. Sherlock´s jaw tightened. No chance of escaping. He was still holding the usb devise in his right hand, now feeling incredible stupid, that he´d put John in this dangerous situation.

He stood there like a fool, not able to move, with the stupid stick in his hand and his only friend wrapped in explosives right in front of him.

He heard it before John and had already moved his head towards the source of the sound. The sound of High Heels, clicking noises one the tiled ground of the pool. A small woman walked limber into the scene.

A cheerful smile upon her face: "Finally get to meet you in person, Mr. Holmes! Oh, is this a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"

"Both!" Sherlock replied flatly, starting to look around as she cried out: "Don´t be silly! Someone else is holding the rifle. I don´t like to get my hands dirty!"

She came closer and the sallow light made Sherlock see her face. Her short darkbrown hair reached her chin and whipped slightly as she moved closer, rocking her hips from side to side ever so slowly. Her perfectly manicured hands seemed to be soft, 'never had to work hard', he deduced. 'Wearing too much make up', her lips were painted with a deep red, 'makes her look older than she probably is'. His eyes flickered over her and he made his conclusions in seconds. He also saw, that her slender body was perfectly trained, in the way her muscles stretched and tightened as she slowly strolled over to Watson and him.

"What are you looking at, Mr. Holmes? Did you already made your conclusions about me? Let me tell you what, I made mine as well!"

"You are an expert in your very own area, connected to all those crimes I was working on, without ever getting yourself involved personally, just pulling the strings. You do possess money, wearing perfectly tailored designer clothes and Louboutins so I may assume that your business goes quite well?", very slowly he expressed his next deduction. "A consulting criminal… People come to you, if they need something to be done, something criminal."

She clapped her hands and cheered: "Very good, Mr. Holmes, very good indeed. Most people presume that I am a man. They never get to know me in person, of course." She laughed. "But you are an exception; I really wanted to meet you. To see the stupid look on your face, priceless!"

"Stop this. I have the missile plans! That´s what you want, isn´t it, that´s what this whole game was about!"

She stopped, standing behind John looking closely: "You should give your little pet more attention, was quite easy to kidnap him!" Her voice was threatening and low.

Sherlock just glared at her.

"I see, you are already sentimentally attached to your little pet. Don´t want me to harm him, mmh?" She mused, making a face.

"Just take those damn plans and let John go!" Sherlock yelled, holding up the plans in his hand.

"I don't want your stupid plans! I could have gotten them anywhere if I´ve wanted to!" She screamed back at him, as if he was to dull to understand what this was really about.

She took the last two steps, standing right in front of him. He smelt Chanel perfume, Sherlock looked down in her dark brown eyes and whispered trough gritted teeth: "What. Do. You. Want?" She cocked her had to one side, taking the usb device out of his hand looking at it several seconds. Then she just threw it into the pool, leaving Sherlock and John with a puzzled look on their faces. But John reacted, thanks to his army training, pretty quick, grabbing the woman in a headlock, she gasped, turning her head to John: "Johnny boy, do you think this is clever?" Sherlock pulled out John´s gun and pointed it towards her head.

"Oh it WAS a gun", her voice dropping, sounding all sad. "You wanne know a secret?"

"Do tell!"

"I have more than one sniper", she whisper-shouted at him. At that exact point a red dot appeared on Sherlock´s forehead. John sighed and released her.

'Her chuckles sounded a little crazy', John thought to himself and looked over to Sherlock, who was completely consumed by watching this maniac. John worried and felt the hint of jealousy in his stomach.

She brushed imaginary dust of her fancy coat and skirt. "Westwood!", she cried out. "Now Jonny boy be a good dog and leave us now, would you?"

John frowned and glared: "Shut the fuck up!" But she just locked her eyes in Sherlocks iceblue ones. "John, go and be safe!" he mumbled. The small woman in front of him eyed him with curiosity, cocking her head from side to side. "Sherlock! You can´t be serious!" John cried out. "John! Do as I say, I´ll be alright, Miss….", "Miss Gemma Moriarty, Sherlock. Tss- you know who I am, don´t play stupid." She stated. "Miss Moriarty and I have to talk and she will send her henchman away, won´t she?"

John stared at them, they didn´t even look at him as if he was just an insect disturbing them. He couldn´t believe it and stood next to them not moving away, frowning.

"Alright then, Mr. Holmes." She snapped her fingers and the red dots vanished immediately. "Are you satisfied now?"

"Sherlock!" John cried out, this was their chance to get her once and for all, couldn´t he see that?

"John. It´s fine, just leave now." Their eyes were locked into each other's, her lips twisted in a wicked smile. John still didn´t move, he couldn´t let his friend be alone with this crazy person. What if she just killed him? John couldn´t even stand that idea, but was although angry, how could Sherlock be so selfish? Is this all a game to him, as it is for her?

"You know what Sherlock? Do whatever you want, but I´m not coming back to save you!" He growled and for the first time in minutes Sherlock actually looked at him, but John already turned his back, pulled the jacket off and tossed it to the floor and left. The door slammed shut behind him. Sherlock would figure this out later. John had never been able to be angry at him for very long.

"Oh dear," she made a sad face but the corners of her red lips twitched "He will be pretty angry, you will have to make it up to him!"

The reflections of the dim light of the water mirrored in their faces. And the sudden peace was broken by Sherlock´s harsh voice: "So he´s gone now, so what is it that you want? And don´t think that I believe your henchmen are actually gone!"

"Tsk-tsk-tsk!" She pursed her lips: "You do thing very little of me! But they are gone! I preferre to talk in private. And for what I want…You do have formed your conclusion already, don´t mock me." She turned on her black Heels with the red sole and walked delicately slow away from him, hands behind her back, her hips rocking from side to side.

He couldn´t believe that he was actually distracted in his stream of thoughts by her bare movement. She wasn´t actually beautiful, but nevertheless attractive in a strange way. Her dark round eyes, her full lips, the small nose, nothing ugly in particular, he thought to himself, but still not breathtaking. So what was it about her?

"You start to bore me AND stop staring at my back!"

Sherlock decided to ignore her last statement and got going: "You like to play games, that´s obvious and you are bored. So I assume you want to play with a worthy adversary, who could actually beat you."

"Make no mistake, Mr. Holmes!" She laughed out. "You may be a worthy opponent for me, but you could never ever beat me! You belong to this dull and boring side of the angels, you would never go as far as it would take to even become a thread to me! You let them impose restrictions to yourself. For an instance I am free, doing whatever I like whenever I like, no one would dare to restrict me, I would simply kill them!" She had stopped and turned her head back over her shoulder to look at Sherlock, while she was talking. But he just gave her a smirk. "Oh am I mistaken here?" She turned around to face him, walking quickly back to him, examining his face with a mystified look and her head cocked to the left side. "I AM mistaken!" She beamed up at him. "So I think you can put the gun away now, we´ve been properly introduced now, so just put it away or are you afraid?" She sing-songed.

"PUT YOUR GUN AWAY!" She screamed at him as he didn´t react. Now he slowly slipped it back into his pocket. 'She is crazy or just playing very well. I should figure that out quickly!' He thought to himself. 'Or I will get killed.'

"Sooo honey, what do you wanne know? Let´s have dinner?"

"I´m not hungry."

"Oh shut the fuck up!" She stated grabbed his much higher small chin and pulled him down to her face, now it was her turn to smirk and she pushed her delicate red lips against his pale ones. His eyes widened and he didn´t return the kiss but grabbed her shoulders pushing her away forcefully. He gasped as she stumbled backwards and fell right into the light blue water of the pool. SPLASH!

He whipped his lips with the back of his hand, red lipstick all over them.

"What the hell..!" He screamed at her, but she had started to flail her arms and looked like she was drowning.

"I-I- cannot…" She spat water: "Not SWIM!" She tried hard to push herself up but her face covered in terror. "HELP!" Sherlock looked slowly around no one was coming, so they were alone. The movements of her arms got slower and she desperately gasped for air as her head sank under the surface of the water. "Fuck." Sherlock ripped of his coat, his scarf and his shoes and finally jumped into the pool with a header. He dived in the cool water and grabbed her by the waist to pull her up. He examined her face, she looked unconscious. Her dark eyes flew open getting him by surprise; she pushed him under the water forcefully. He could hear her shrill laughing, now his turn to try to get back to the surface. She was stronger than he thought, but he finally managed to get rid of her grip and emerged back to the surface.

"Are you crazy!?" He screamed at her. Moriarty´s face was half under water so her eyes glanced up to him as she breached and spit him a mouthful of pool water right in the face, her heels pushing him hard in the chest. He whipped his face and as he spotted her, she had already left the pool standing on the side of it laughing at him.

"You really thought I would drown! Oh dear, why rescuing me? ME? I´m your worst nightmare! You are so emotional and bound to your rules, just couldn´t let me die like that, helpless little girl in the water, couldn´t watch me drown!" She didn´t stop to laugh.

Sherlock stayed in the middle of the pool motionless arguing with himself how he could be so dull for god´s sake!? Why even believe her?

She started to undress herself on the edge of the pool dropping her soaking wet jacket to the ground, then her skirt and her blouse. Sherlock stared at her, she wasn´t actually wearing any underwear. Just dressed with her High-Heels she walked over to his coat, slowly picking it up and covering herself in it. Sherlock´s mouth dropped open. Her hand slid in the pocket taking out the gun, closely looking at it, releasing the safety catch and finally aiming at Sherlock still motionless in the water.

"What do you think, deary? I´m looking gorgeous in your stupid coat! And look now I do have a weapon!" And then she just shot. Sherlock didn´t even twitch.

She shot right next to his head.

"You know what? You just told me something really interesting about you, Sherlock! You are so bored that you are eager to play with me. You didn´t want to let me die, because you couldn´t, you could have drowned me with your bare hands in that pool, but you are so wanting this! You do wanne play! I´m not talking about the usual stuff, Sherlock. I´m talking about real fun! Ahh, come on don´t give me that look! You wanne play and I just decided, you are worthy! So come on get out of the water and theeeen we will se-e…!"

She dropped the gun on the floor. Sherlock climbed out of the water and the second he looked up she was standing right in front of him. Her dark hazel eyes gazing down at him a smile curling her still red lips. Her dark hair sticking soaking wet on her face. Falling drops of water from their soaking bodies was the only thing that was heard for several seconds.

Sherlock felt the anger rising in him, he usually got not carried away by his emotions, he didn´t even feel them the most time, but right now he was angry. This woman was playing with him, driving him mad, he just wanted her to stop. He jumped to his feet grabbing the sleeve of his coat tight and pushing her back with force until she crashed against metal lockers. A loud crack and air was pushed out of her lungs. But she kept her grin, making Sherlock even more livid, pushing her against the lockers again, but the smile still wouldn´t leave her round face.

"Did I tease you too much? I thought I would have to dig deeper." Sherlock growled and pushed his body against hers, again air was forcefully pushed out of her lungs and she gasped loudly. His hand automatically closing around her throat as his other one rose in an attempt to hit her right in her grinning face. "Come on, hit me, I don´t mind!" She choked.

Sherlock was more than confused; he got driven away by his anger, but why? She was right, he knew it all along, he desperately wanted to play the game a little longer. Just a little bit. He would set things right afterwards!

Instead of trying to get rid of his choking hand, she pulled him even closer, wrapping her right leg around his hip, forcing his body closer. "I. Really. Wanne. Play." She whispered in his ear. "But I´m not sure you know what I mean." She could see his pupils widen, his breath going just a little faster. "I´m not interested in your attempt!" he stated but realized at the same time, that his heartbeat had increased, she made him do this and she is just making him want her. How the hell does she do this?

"You surely are not. But you don´t know what you are missing!" She whispered her breath touching his neck making him shudder. Her nose brushed his ear ever so slightly. He grabbed her throat harder, pushing her head back against the cold metal. What he hadn´t realized, was that his body had betrayed him, his other hand rested on her thigh, holding it in place. He stared down, unable to believe that he did this, looking up again in her bemused face. "What are you doing to me?!"

"Nothing, darling!" She made an innocent face. "Just let go of me and I will be off."

But he didn´t let go immediately, so she added quickly: "Or you just get rid of those soaking wet clothes and fuck me right here!"

"Why would I want that?"

"You don´t know yet but I am sure you will like our little game even more! Why not trying? And if you try, shouldn´t it be with someone who matches you? Who can compete with you? Who could beat you in intellect, genius even?" She reached up, her lips just brushing over his. "What do you think, honey? Wanne play? Just let go this one time!" He wanted to play, but he wasn´t sure, if it was wise to give up his anti-sexual way of life just for a little thrill. Probably not, but his other hand had already left her throat, slowly wandering to her shoulder to pull her tighter and whispering in her ear. "You will need to prove it to me, that this will be worth it!" She exhaled sharply as his breath touched her ear.

"And again, darling, make no mistake! I don´t do anything for free!"

"So you finally tell me what you want?"

"No not now, of course, stupid. But remember: We will play for a while but in the end-" she grabbed his chin to make him face her and her eyes getting cold, "I. Will. Burn. The. Heart. Out. Of. You."

Sherlock felt a shiver running down his spine. He pulled the coat roughly over her shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed. She stretched her hands to hold his face again, but he grabbed both of them with one of his, pinning them over her head. A sound of surprise left her lips. Her breath increased as she realized, what he was up to. She smiled her wicked smile. "Want to make me feel helpless? Never going to happen!" Again he hit her back hard against the locker, but didn´t know what to do now, he hesitated for a second. And suddenly a phone rang.

*Quote from "Two against own" from Danger Mouse


	2. Chapter 2

NOTE:

I am sorry that this one took me so long and is still quite short! I hope you like it.

Ah and I still own nothing

Chapter2

In the brief second of his irritation she pulled free and pulled her phone out of his coat, turning around, she simply said: "I knew you would probably throw me in the water, so I put it in here." Shrugging her shoulders she answered it.

"Sherlock, be a good boy and be quiet, Mummy´s doing business!" She had half turned around, waving her hand at him.

He felt like a fool, this woman was incredible. He hated her already.

The conversation on the phone got louder quickly. "What do you have?! Listen to me, listen carefully! If you are lying, I will have you skinned!" She emphasized every syllable.

"Right. You will be rewarded if you are telling the truth, but if not-" a short pause increased the obvious threat, "I will make myself new High Heels out of your skin!"

She ended the phone call and turned around, Sherlock strained under her gaze.

"Sorry honey, I have to leave you now. I will return the coat, surly don´t want to keep this old thing! Bye bye!"

"Oh and Dr. Watson didn´t go very far so you two lovebirds can go home together! Catch up later!"

She waved and quickly left the pool.

Sherlock scowled looking helplessly around. Then he turned and ran outside, where he did meet John. "What did you two do? What took you so long, did you exchange your whole life stories?!"

Sherlock sighed: "What are you still doing here?"

"Just answer my damn question, Sherlock! What was going on in there?"

"Let´s just go home." Sherlock replied tired.

"Wait. Why are you all wet? And where is your coat?!"

"What do you suggest, John?" Sherlock went straight ahead away from John´s continuing questions towards the street to get a cab and just go home.

While they were driving with the cab Sherlock stared out of the window, lost in the attempt to straighten his thoughts. John had stopped asking him about what happened and had started to just stare at him with a concerned expression on his face. The cab drive went by silent and soon they arrived in Bakerstreet, Sherlock stormed off into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. Nothing unusual though but John kept on worrying, what did Moriarty do to him?

Still wearing the wet clothes Sherlock threw himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling, how was he supposed to process this? What did even happen back there? He had never felt that urge in his guts and had never been interested in this kind of interpersonal relation, though he couldn´t stop thinking about her.

He could hear John walking around the flat.

Maybe the fact that someone is actually out there and kind of a match made him loose his ground at the pool. She did surely feel the same way, why else making such a dangerous attempt? He could have killed her, but she knew, he wouldn´t. She had played him.

Right on the edge, the brief moment before drifting into sleep he promised himself that something like that is never going to happen again, ever.


	3. Chapter 3

NOTE: I am sorry for the delay! Thanks for reading and thank you "Merlin is not a dude" for your nice comment! So I have figured out a lot of this story already in my head just need to go on writing it down Hope you enjoy!

Chapter3

The rays of early sunlight crawling over his face ever so slightly wakened him from various versions of nightmares with always the same woman as main character, haunting him even in his dreams. He rose from his bed feeling stiff and exhausted. He decided a shower would clear his sleepy mind and would give him back the ability to think straight.

The stream of hot water made him actually feel better and when he finally came into the living room, John was already sitting at the kitchen table. Looking at him sternly over his breakfast, Sherlock already knew that he had to answer a lot of questions, he had no answer to.

Sherlock managed to describe the situation at the pool to John without mentioning how close he got to lose control. John refused to let this go so he had to explain at least part of the encounter last night. The look of concern was clearly visible in John´s expression, his forehead furrowed but eventually he sighed when he realized Sherlock wouldn´t give him any more information.

The following days went by without a new case and Sherlock couldn´t help it, in his boredom he contemplated over Moriaty again and again.

The scent of her perfume and the closeness of their soaking wet bodies, her voice in his head trying to lure him out to come and play. In his whole life there were only a few occasions when he felt drawn to another person in this manner. This sexual manner. He was perfectly clear about the fact that he felt drawn to her because of the simple fact that she matched him intellectually and she was perfectly aware of it, used it even.

Right now there was little for him to do, he knew that he would´ve to wait until she decided to encounter him. So he stayed in the flat reclining on the couch in his dark blue dressing gown, waiting for – just waiting for anything to happen at all. Any kind of distraction, a stupid simple case, he would take everything right now. He even started to consider doing some drugs to distract him but John was worried and wouldn´t allow it anyway.

It stayed like this for a weeks until eventually his new phone buzzed next to him on the table. He had thrown himself on the couch this morning and hadn´t moved much since then. His eyes glanced over to the new phone (his old one died after it went in the pool with him and John had to get a new one for him) and considered to call John to get it for him. Probably it was Lestrade, hopefully it was him with at least something to do for him.

He tried to remember if John was at home, he´d said something about leaving because of something that morning, Sherlock wasn´t sure and finally he sighed and leaned over to grab the phone from their coffee table. The second he saw the display his fingers trembled ever so slightly as he saw the message from an unknown number. He sat up and just starred at it for a moment.

"How are things? Did you miss me? If you want your coat back, meet me in an hour at Millennium Bridge. Kisses GM"


	4. Chapter 4

Note: We are getting to the main story! Yeah! Hope you like it!

Chapter 4

Sherlock sat on the couch his phone tight in his hand for several minutes just staring at the text. He didn´t know how he should react to this, he felt a genuine excitement rushing through his veins. It would be quite stupid to go there, on his own, could be a trap, could be dangerous. That was it he raised from the couch and strode into his bedroom, when he emerged again he was fully dressed and if it was nothing he still wanted his coat back.

The moment he wanted to storm out the flat he ran into John.

"Where are _you_ going?" John was surprised to see him up and fully dressed.

Sherlock contemplated over his answer for several moments, John would certainly not let him go on his own to meet the world´s only consulting criminal. So he could lie but what should he tell John? That there was a case, he would want to come along. Sherlock went with the most innocent reply he could muster: "I am tired of lying around and before I start shooting the wall again, what would surly upset Mrs. Hudson, I considered to go for a walk like ordinary people might do. After that I will go to the shops, do you need anything?"

John seemed to be astonished to say the least but as far as Sherlock could tell he was taking the bait.

"Uhm – okay, do you want me to join you?"

"No thank you, I´m fine."

And with that Sherlock made his way down the stairs leaving John with a look of clear disbelief on his face, before he shrugged it off and closed the door of the flat. Sherlock grabbed a cab, it was rather nice outside. The sun was shining but it was still chilly and some clouds hinted that it might rain later. Sherlock leaned back and watched the people on the streets without really looking, his mind was working and he frowned. 'What is she up to?' Was the only thought that circled around in his mind palace. He hoped he would at least get his coat back, it was sold out everywhere and he even complained to Mycroft about it.

With a sudden break the cab came to a halt, quickly Sherlock paid the man and left the street behind him walking down a smaller road forbidden for cars to the famous bridge. The Tate Gallery appeared before him and the sound of the river reached his ears. Today the bridge wasn´t as crowded as usually and he could see a lonely woman leaning over the balustrade with her arms her eyes somewhere in the distance.

The fact that she came obviously alone with a bag to her feet surprised Sherlock. Slowly he walked on the bridge, making his way over to this woman, who was supposedly the most dangerous one in England. As he´d made half of the way she noticed him but remained leaning on the balustrade with her arms, her hands entwined, cocking her head slightly that her hair starting falling to one side; then she turned back to watch the Thames. Sherlock slowly made the rest of the way and stopped beside her hands in his pockets. Gemma straightened to look up a cocky smile on her lips.

"Sherlock Holmes. Here we are again."

The way she said his name made him grit his teeth and his reply seemed kind of uninspired to him.

"Gemma Moriarty. Glad you could make it."

He grimaced at that and her smile widened and she leaned down to grab the bag and hand it over to him.

"Your coat. I´d it cleaned. The way you looked when I took it implied that you are quite fond of it. And I must admit that I like it on you. Otherwise I would have kept it as a souvenir."

He took the bag from her outstretched hand.

"What do you want?"

His blue eyes locked with hers. Gemma raised an eyebrow at the question as if it was just too obvious but when Sherlock didn´t react, she shrugged and slowly walked around him while she answered.

"Isn´t it obvious? Even in my line of business there are very rare occasions you actually meet someone really _interesting_." She emphasized the last bit. "And I must admit I am intrigued. But so are you, why else would you be here?"

"Maybe I am intrigued as well but maybe I just wanted my coat back, as you´d just pointed out I´m quite fond of it."

"No, no. That is not why you came, at least not the only reason." She stood behind him now, her hands behind her back and her heels clicked sharply as she took another step. Sherlock turned his head slowly over his shoulder to look at her.

"If you don´t mind, I would _die_ to become acquainted with you."

There was something off about the way she emphasized words, it made Sherlock shudder inwardly.

"Become Acquainted?" He raised his eyebrows but still didn´t turn.

"Besides our different lines of work, of course. I would even lay low for a little while. Not much up right now anyway. But you must know how boring it can be to play with the ordinary people all the time…" She pouted a bit before the crooked grin appeared again around her deep red lips. Sherlock remained silent because he could think of nothing to reply, he just furrowed his eyebrows.

"Come on Sherlock, don´t be boriiiing!"

"Fine. I truly do not know what you want. What do you suggest?"

Sherlock couldn´t put his mind around the fact that he´d just agreed to _get acquainted_ with a criminal. Maybe the fact that she hit a nerve with her statement was it that made Sherlock fall for the idea to be around someone actually smart except for his brother but Mycroft was mostly smug about it. He was so bored most of the time, that this idea made his nerves tingle. The sensation of danger and excitement on a whole different level were brought to him with this. Sherlock had always tended to be someone who didn´t really mind if he were harmed. His drug abuse told that story pretty good.

It started to rain and Gemma made a few steps backwards to stop right next to Sherlock eyeing him with her dark brown eyes.

"I will contact you again soon. I just have to make a few preparations. I hope this will be fun, don´t let me down, Sherlock."

And with that she left her heels making a clicking sound on the ground. Sherlock opened the bag and retrieved his coat. The rain got stronger and he put the coat on, his suit was already wet and he shivered. The feeling of his coat was comforting and he inhaled deeply when he suddenly stopped mid breathing. The scent of the coat had changed, it wasn´t the scent of dry cleaning, it was the scent of the perfume Gemma wore that day at the pool. Sherlock turned around to look after her just to see that she´d stopped on her way and had revolved to watch his reaction. Sherlock couldn´t see her face properly in the distance and with the stronger rain anymore but he could tell that she smiled her crooked smile. And he returned it.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Like ordinary people

NOTE: Finally next Chapter I hope you enjoy!

Nothing happened after their encounter on the bridge. Sherlock decided not to tell John, he didn´t like him when he´s concerned with him. And the daily routine o cases returned to his life. Of course Sherlock wasn´t idle, he started to dig deeper to find more crimes in which Moriarty was involved in the last years. She covered her tracks very well, but that was obvious to Sherlock, because she did not like to get her hands dirty. Moriarty was a specialist who was quite in demand. In vain Sherlock tried to find her routes, except of the young boy she must have killed at a very young age at this pool all those years ago. Sherlock could´t help it, he was intrigued.

Until a new case brought him and John to the Buckingham Palace, the case of the woman. Irene Adler made Sherlock forget the desperation he felt. _In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex_. Even though he knew Irene was only drawn to men intellectually and preferred women in bed, it was a more than fascinating encounter that made Sherlock realise even more that he wasn´t only a high functioning brain. His body was more than a tool for transport. After he saved her from being beheaded, he´d even considered the idea of an affair but in the end her sexual preferences and his hesitation in that manner made it impossible to stay more than a kind of friends.

A few weeks after his return Sherlock stood in front of the scratched kitchen table performing an experiment which involved strongly smelling chemicals. John had left the flat cursing in a hurry and Sherlock didn´t mind to be left alone. The sounds of rattling test-tubes and a low burning Bunsen-burner were disturbed by the text alert from his mobile. He glanced over in hope for a new case from Lestrade but stopped in the middle of his movement. The text was from an unknown number, again. Finally, he thought, while turning of the burner and moved to sit on a nearby chair.

"Ready? GM" Was the only thing she wrote.

"What for? SH" He replied.

The answer came quickly:

"Well well, I thought you had a better memory. Mind if I´m coming over? GM"

'This is an interesting change of course, what was she up to? Certainly not killing him in his own flat.' Sherlock mused over the text for a couple of minutes and finally replied:

"Not at all. SH"

He waited but no reply came. Looking around he realised the mess and decided to at least clean it up a little bit. By the time he heard the light footsteps of a woman on the stairs, he´d tea ready and waited sitting on one of the armchairs with his slim hands stapled under his chin. There was no knock on the door and Moriarty entered the flat. She looked just like the last time at the pool wearing a perfectly tailored suit with jacket and skirt in a dark blue, matching dark blue high heels and the deep red lipstick on her lips that made her look older. Sherlock could smell the faint scent of her perfume and something else, yes, cigarettes. A crooked smile lifted the right corner of her mouth while she hesitated in the doorway: "Are you going to stare at me the whole time or are you thinking about to call the police?" Sherlock hesitated for a second before he jumped from his chair and made an inviting gesture towards the other chair.

"I´m considering if you´re a vampire and if I give you permission to enter I´m damned." Irony dripping from his voice. Her smile got a little wider and she slowly walked over to the offered chair. She sat down brushing imaginary dust of her skirt and finally leaning back.  
>"You certainly are damned, honey." Sherlock just rolled his eyes and sat back down. "Would you mind some tea?" "I would love some." She looked immaculate as always, perfect suit all black, high heels and a deep red blouse matching the colour of her lips.<p>

While Sherlock prepared the tea they were gazing at each other. Gemma didn´t look like a threat to him but that was rather the point, he thought. "It came to my attention you met Irene and that you were kind of interested. I was quite fond of her myself back in the days, it seems like we have the same taste. Nevertheless I´m more the jealous type; so I was not pleased to hear of your little affair back in Katarh." She mad one of her faces but Sherlock just shrugged.

"Why are you here, exactly?" Sherlock picked up his tea and slowly drank a few sips glancing at her over the verve of the cup. Now it was her turn to shrug and she admitted indifferently:

"I told you. It came to my mind that you might enjoy some comparable company. I suggest John is a good pet but he certainly cannot catch up with you. Nevertheless I do not have friends or this kind of sentimental rubbish so I admit, I´m not quite sure about this…" She made a dramatic gesture and let her hands fell over the armrests. Sherlock carefully observed her face and her body language but could see no sign of lying. He wasn´t sure if she was implying anything sexual; he could never tell when people use ambiguity in this manner. So he preferred to ignore it.

"What are you suggesting?" He simply asked instead. Her gaze roomed over him and it was easy to tell she really wasn´t sure. "I suggest we start to know each other a little better. I´ve to admit that I´m quite fond of you. Doesn´t happen very often that I meet someone as clever as yourself. Why don´t we take a little vacation from our lives? Like ordinary people, could be fun. And maybe we can live side by side afterwards or I´ll kill you."

"Vacations?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow. He didn´t have other plans so far, but going on a trip with one of the most dangerous criminals he´d ever the pleasure to meet, wasn´t surly something he had ever considered.

"Like ordinary people." She smirked a little at his concerned face. "Are you afraid of me, Sherlock Holmes?"

She paused, but Sherlock didn´t reply.

"Honey, just a little get-to-know-each-other-trip. No killing. Promise!"

She winked and leaned back in the chair taking her cup of tea with her.

It took Sherlock some time to figure this out, he didn´t know why he should do it, but he did´t know why not, either. And again the promise of adrenaline and danger at the edge of his mind seemed to cloud his judgment, when he heard himself reply, he was honestly surprised.

"Fine. When do we start?"

A smile curled Gemma´s lips up. "Tomorrow. Countryside. I already took care of everything." She raised from her armchair straitening her clothes. "Expect my text, we will take the train." And without another word she left the flat. Sherlock leaned back starring at the ceiling. Well, this was weird.


	6. Chapter 6

NOTE: So here it is finally the new chapter. It will have a little more of Gemma´s POV, as always I hope you enjoy reading!

Chapter 6: Holiday

Sherlock thought about a way to tell John that he was leaving for the weekend without him and then he thought why it was such a big deal to go somewhere without telling him or taking him along. Eventually he came to a brilliant conclusion or at least he thought so.

John had walked a few steps away from Sherlock, turned back, throwing his hands up in disbelief, frowning: "What did you say? Where are you going?"

"Do you have problems with the acoustic or with understanding? I am going to visit my parents."

John shook his head: "I have serious problems with understanding, I think. I never even heard you talking about your parents and I just didn´t took you for a family – family kind of – whatever."

Sherlock slowly walked back in the direction of his bedroom to pack, turning his head back to John raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes even I have to do this boring and dull family _whatever_, to avoid worse. Like regular phone calls or them visiting me."

"Fine. Than have fun or whatever."

Sherlock received a text late that evening with the station, the platform and the departure time. It was early in the morning Sherlock left the flat with a small brown leather bag. Outside it was still dark and drizzling, he took a cab to the station. There were only a few commuters passing by waiting or rushing for their trains. Sherlock arrived at the top of the stair that lead down to the platform. Of course he had taken precautions to prevent anyone from finding out what he was doing. He even informed Lestrade that he would be away for the weekend and he blocked Mycroft´s surveillance on his phone. Very discreet so he wouldn´t notice.

Now Sherlock´s eyes roamed over the platform until he saw her. Gemma stood next to bag in a plain black cashmere dress under a beige trench coat. The coat hung open and lazily moved with the wind, which always seems to be present on platforms. As if she´d noticed that someone was watching her she turned further around and noticed Sherlock on top of the stairs. The wind blew strong through the canopied station taking her hair and her coat with him. Gemma wrapped her arms around her body against the freezing breeze and waited.

A hint of anxiety and nervousness hit Sherlock as he took the first step. He could deduce a thousand facts about that particular woman but he was not able to figure out her intentions. When Sherlock reached her, he´d already forgotten his former unwell feeling. She shot him an awry smile but didn´t make the attempt to say anything. Instead they just stood next to each other waiting for their train.

On time the train arrived and without just one exchanged word they entered, sat down opposite to each other and watched the landscape race by in silence. It wasn´t an uncomfortable silence it was more like they both had agreed to it, to share it.

After an hour Sherlock left and returned with two paper cups of coffee. After another hour the train arrived at their destination. Sherlock hadn´t bothered to ask where they´re going. It was a small town on the countryside close to the sea. There was not much to find, a small town, a church, an Inn and a big lot of sheep all around the village.

They were staying in a cute little Inn called Crown´s, it was an old cottage-style house with two stories with a pub.

_Gemmas POV_

It was for certain not the strangest thing she had ever done but it was surly in her top ten. She just couldn´t stop thinking about Sherlock. The day she´d returned his coat, the way he´d looked at her through the rain, that little smile… At first it has just been curiosity; today it was much more than that. Gemma was genuinely intrigued. For a long time now she´d thought that she was past that kind of stuff, though she was standing here now in front of that old hotel with a man she barely even knew beside every single fact she could dig up about him and his past. His brother on the other hand she knew pretty well, had come across him every now and then while working on a job. Much more dangerous this one.

While Gemma tried to sort through her thoughts, she made her way into the hotel. The furniture, the decoration everything was exactly the way you would imagine it to be in an old pup with a small bed & breakfast. It was cozy but kind of frumpy that´s why Gemma hadn´t bothered to reserve rooms. She hadn´t thought people would actually spend their holidays here. But matter of factly people did and when she stood in front of the reception desk with Sherlock a step behind her, she felt stupid. The man behind the desk just told her that there was only the suite left she felt a blush creeping over her cheeks, a stupid blush! Really! Who was she? Some kind of schoolgirl?! She could practically feel Sherlock snort behind her even though he didn´t make a noise.

"Our suite is really nice and free room service is included!" The old man behind the desk looked from her to Sherlock who stepped closer until he was right next to her and his arm brushed her elbow. Gemma was lost for a moment and Sherlock took the opportunity leaned a bit over the desk and did the most unexpected thing as he wrapped his arm around her and replied: "That sounds lovely, honey! We will take it." Then he winked and turned away again.

Oh, that bastard he was enjoying this way too much.

"Great! Who can I sign in? And for how long do you want to stay?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Watson. Until Sunday." She replied turning towards Sherlock who just rolled his eyes at her. She smirked and turned back to the desk to make the payments and book breakfast.

Their suite was on the end of the hall on the second story. The room was big, with a couch and television, a big four-poster bed with a silly rose coverlet, a bathroom in the back and a small table with two chairs near the windows. The fluffy whine red carpet muffled their steps when they shuffled themselves and their luggage inside the room.

They hadn´t talked since they took the room and the following silence was awkward. They just stood in the middle of the room neither knowing what to do next.

Eventually Gemma sighed heavily and broke the silence.

"Tell me, you genius, what exactly where you thinking?"

Sherlock seemed to muse over her question for a moment until he crossed the distance between them with a few steps. His tall frame a bit too close for Gemma´s taste. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a slight grin.

"You didn´t plan this as well as I thought." He simply stated. "And it was quite amusing to see you getting uncomfortable like that." His hand reached hesitantly for her cheek just barely touching it and there it was again the flush of pink on her face giving her away.

"Blushing." Another blunt statement that made Gemma want to kick him, but she was frozen in place starring up in his pale blue eyes. His fingers rested on her cheekbone. "I am certainly no expert in this area but if I wouldn´t know it any better I would presume you like me." His voice was low and Gemma forgot for a second that she didn´t do that kind of thing.

Sherlock seemed a tiny bit disappointed when Gemma stepped out of his reach and turned away from him. Not being in control was not her thing either.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I´m certainly not here with you because I planned on seducing you!" The words came out harsh and a wave of anger hit her. "I´m not doing that kind of stuff. And I thought you weren´t, either…" The last bit sounded more like a question to her ears, because she´d seen his pupils dilate just seconds ago when he touched her.

Instead of giving her an answer Sherlock just shrugged and grabbed his bag to put in on the bed and empty it.

"So you want to sleep on the couch then?" He asked with a crooked smile.


	7. Chapter 7

NOTE: Here comes chapter 7! Mostly Gemma´s POV now. Hope you still enjoy!

PS: For the timeline, it is Thursday when they arrive.

Chapter 7: Adjusting

After unpacking most of their stuff Gemma sat down on the couch throwing her body against the cushions closing her eyes for a moment. Sherlock was still shuffling through the room while she started to have serious doubts about where this was heading. Sometimes she hated her crude decisions but now they were here. Sherlock cleared his throat and Gemma´s eyes flew open again, blinking at him.

"Okay this is really awkward." Gemma stated lamely.

"Do you think?" Sarcasm in every word, Sherlock sat down in the armchair opposite to the couch stapling his long fingers under his chin a small smile on his lips and in his eyes.

They both knew that they were always kind of stiff around people, lacking a certain kind of social skills their personalities didn´t allow them to acquire.

"Does that amuse you, Mr. Holmes?"

"A little bit." His smile still on his lips.

"I took you for a more interesting companion." Gemma mused leaning forward on the couch resting her arms on her legs her hands entwined. "But I like you, anyway."

"You _like_ me?" Sherlock emphasized the word raising his eyebrows.

"Yah, but don´t make too much of it you´re just the most interesting person I met in ages." Gemma made a small face and gave him one of her crooked smiles. "But that´s not so hard when everyone else is just so dull." She made a dramatic gesture and slumped back in the cushions. "So how did you manage to escape your little pet and that grumpy brother of yours?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyebrows and leaned back in the armchair. "That´s not so hard considering I know his surveillance better than he does." Now it was his time to give her a awry smile.

Gemma chuckled and her brown eyes twinkled. "I met him recently. Not a very nice encounter but if you leave out the abduction nevertheless interesting."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows cocking his head slightly.

"Abduction? He kidnapped you?" Then he laughed. "How did he manage to do that?"

"He didn´t actually. I let him. Was kinda interested in what he wanted."

"What did he want?" Sherlock seemed curious.

"Not gonna spoil it for you, honey!" She winked and Sherlock snorted.

"What do you wanne do? I suggest dinner for the evening but now?"

Sherlock didn´t get the chance to answer when a siren broke the silence a second later. It was close and Gemma got up and peeked through the window down the street. Sherlock followed her lead and stood close behind her small form easily watching the scene outside over her shoulder. Gemma disliked her feeling to the sudden closeness while a shiver ran down her spine. She turned her head slowly and looked up in Sherlock´s blue eyes.

"Guess I know what we could do! Playing a little detective." She grinned and turned around fully. She could hear the sharp intake of breath from Sherlock when she moved a bit closer only to pass him. "Are you coming? Always wanted to know how it is to play on the other side." She was genuinely excited and grabbed her coat.

"If I knew I would work on my _holiday_ I could have stayed at home." Sherlock stated dryly but nevertheless followed her and grabbed his coat and scarf from the bed where he had left them.

They were downstairs and out of the door in no time walking over to the little park a little down the street where a crowd of onlookers had already gathered. The police was busy securing the crime scene while Gemma and Sherlock right behind her making their way around the people to get a better look. The victim was a woman about thirty lying in a pool of blood coming from a step wound in her breast. She died between some bushes that shielded the scene to the street. "What do you see?" Sherlock asked her curious all of sudden. Gemma gave him a look and snorted.

"I´m not your pupil you know?" But she lent closer over the yellow barrier tape and narrowed her eyebrows. It took her about 60 seconds to take in the scene, the victim, the surrounding and the police. She wanted to get closer to make sure her suggestion but she obviously couldn´t until she got an idea and turned around for a second. Sherlock observed the scene but turned his attention to Gemma´s strange behavior and he was more than surprised when she suddenly crossed the barrier tape and went straight to a policeman who hold his arms up as he saw her crossing walking over to stop her. Realization hit him when he saw her crying face. She was good, he had to give her that.

Gemma stood by the policeman holding on to his arms crying heavily and gesturing over to the victim holding her hand up to her mouth. She locked her watery eyes into his and whispered sobbing: "I am so sorry but I think this is my cousin! Can I have a look please? I just came into town to visit her!" She started sobbing again leaning against the chest of the poor police man who tried to comfort her. And he actually led her over to the victim where she fell to her knees violently sobbing. She took 20 seconds to look at the body and around before she saw the murder weapon in a bush close by reflecting a ray of sunlight and something else in the grass a bit further that told her pretty much the whole story. She smiled to herself before she took her charade back up turning to the policeman grabbing his arm with one hand slowly nodding and begging him to bring her back behind the tape.

She thanked him and told him she had to call her family before she left still crying until she stood next to Sherlock again gave him a short look to follow her and off she was.

"Got everything." She told him when they reached a part of the park away from the crime scene while she pulled out a handkerchief to dry her face. She smirked up at him. Sherlock gave her a look, but was impressed.

"That was quite impressive." He stated. Now she returned the look as if to tell him that was nothing and sat down on a bench.

"The woman about thirty-two was stabbed in the chest with a hunting knife that hit the aorta. The knife lay abandoned in a bush nearby and there was something else a ring lay in the grass a bit down the path the murderer must have taken because of the way the grass was down and some branches of the bushes were cracked. The ring was small and the woman had a white line on her left ring finger so it was hers. There were no wounds on her hands so no attack she knew the guy. The wound was created by a knife coming from above her obviously a bigger attacker than her. All in all I guess we can say a left husband who liked to hunt in his free time stabbed his wife and ran away dropping the knife immediately because of the shock of what he´d done." When Gemma finished Sherlock looked down on her still standing in front of the bench his hands behind his back.

"Well done." He told her smugly and she rolled her eyes.

"Still not your pupil!" Sherlock laughed and reached out his hand which she took hesitantly and letting herself be pulled up.

They walked through the park to avoid getting too close to the crime scene again and heading back to the hotel.


	8. Chapter 8

NOTE: I hope you will like the new addition! It took me forever to write, new job kept me busy… But next chapter is nearly ready!

Chapter 8: Just a nice dinner

After their little adventure Gemma decided that she needed something to eat and convinced Sherlock to go to a fancy restaurant in town, in fact the only fancy one in town.

Gemma changed into a sleek black silk dress and Sherlock stayed with his purple shirt. Gemma liked that one anyway. The restaurant was small and placed in the old part of town in an old art nouveau house with a beautiful shop front. The street was plastered with cobblestone. It was that kind of restaurant that looked so fancy from the outside that you probably would not dare to go in.

Sherlock and Gemma got a small table near one of the big windows, Sherlock took Gemma´s coat and she couldn´t help but be surprised by his manners.

While their main course Sherlock started a discussion that let to quite an argument.

Gemma was already more than annoyed and she was so proud to have pulled it together so well until now.

"Oh please! Don´t make me reconsider my commitment, Sherlock. Don´t make me think you are as dull as everyone else."

Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"You seriously believe that?! Planning a crime in its details is much more complicated than rewinding it step by step. You must see that, right!?"

She threw her arms up to emphasize her words and fell back in her chair.

"It is obvious that this way requires a lot more of effort and skill." Sherlock stated completely calm despite the fact that he was quite agitated.

Gemma leaned forward over the small table diner long finished by now and whispered:

"You should try the other way around. I promise you, you would be brilliant." She winked and Sherlock actually laughed.

"No thank you very much."

That was a point the conversation shifted and Sherlock was positive that Gemma was upset but he didn´t know for sure why. Yet another thing he would´ve to ask John about.

Shortly after they left the restaurant and from that point it went nuts.

Sherlock looked down at the small woman beneath him. It was easy to tell that she was slightly drunk; she nearly drank the whole bottle of red wine by herself when Sherlock refused to have more than a glass for dinner. They stepped out of the fancy restaurant in the cool damp air and started to walk back to their hotel. Gemma was vivid, Sherlock could easily deduce that. An argument about her line of work was a no good dinner talk, he noted for later occasions.

Both stayed silent for a long time and it started to drizzle. Sherlock surly did not see the point of apologizing. Why should he, he was right obviously.

"Fuck you Sherlock Holmes!" She stated after a few more minutes of heavy silence.

"Beg you pardon?!" He turned to look at her, why would she start to insult him?  
>"What the hell is wrong with you?! Why can´t you have a normal conversation without being such a moron?" "There is nothing wrong with me." He spat out through his gritted teeth. "Oh, I don´t think that´s quite true! There is a lot wrong with you! And making the only person in the whole wide world, who understands you upset, is surly, not very smart!" Gemma increased her speed. "Hey! There is nothing wrong with me! I am not responsible for your dullness!" "Oh you miss the point here, honey." Her voice was sharp not even trying to hide her anger. "I don´t even know why I am here with you. You are just pushing me over the edge!" Gemma stopped, turned on her expensive heels and slapped him hard across his cheekbones. Irene was wrong, she didn´t cut her hand, she mused. Startled he stumbled a few steps back. Now he was furious too and he stepped forward to grab her shoulders and slammed her against the closest wall in a dark alley. The bricks hit her back pretty hard and she exhaled sharply. Their eyes locked with furrowed eyebrows they glared at each other. The only sound audible was the slight rain and the light sound of their heavy breaths. The rain increased and both were soaking wet in minutes but they didn´t move; both did not want to give the other one the satisfaction to give in. Sherlock´s damp curls glued to his face. His eyes gone cold, no trace of blue left in them just a stormy grey. How would this one end? Are they going to kill each other in that dark alley? While Sherlock tried to figure out what his next move should be, he was hit hard in his groins. Gemma had pulled her knee up forcefully to free herself from his tight grip. The tall man bent over groaning in pain as she decided that it was about time someone taught him a lesson. Her hand reached in his wet hair pulling his face up. A smirk was the last thing he remembered as he gained his consciousness again, lying on the pavement. A heel kicked him hard and he rolled over to lie on his back now heavily panting. He had always thought hitting a woman was a foolish and cowardly thing to do, but Gemma was certainly not any woman and he could struggle with this later. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her off her feet. Gemma hit her head and remained still for a few seconds before someone; Sherlock apparently, grabbed her by the collar of her coat and pulled her up only to push her against the bricks again. Her head throbbed and a painful moan escaped her lips as his hand slapped her hard across her face. Her lip started to bleed and she could taste her own blood. She struggled to kick him away but he would not fall for it again. He watched her carefully and recognized clear signs of arousal, her pupils almost covered her whole iris, her flushed cheeks and the darker red of her lips, despite of the blood; gave her away, she enjoyed fighting, she always did, and Sherlock couldn´t say he did not. But he preferred to be in control, he liked her struggling under his firm grip. He fixed both of her hands with one of his slender ones over her head and leaned down so he was close to her face. His lips twitched just a little bit but the smirk was apparent.<p>

"Don´t you dare!" She threatened in vain. His pale bleeding lips came closer; she could feel his quickened breath on her own lips. For a moment he hesitated and Gemma could do nothing but stare with wide eyes, a shiver went down her spine and she was too aware of the gravity of the situation and the fact she could not handle it. Sherlock's blue eyes scanned her face, his grip tightened around the collar of her coat, the smile had faded and his brows furrowed. Only a heartbeat, a rush of blood through the body and he´d made his decision. He pushed his lips against her red and bleeding ones. The kiss was intense more violent than caressing, Gemma flinched, helplessly trying to pull free but he was stronger than she had imagined, holding her in place. When she tried to pull her small face away his free hand grabbed her chin and put her back in position. Her horrified look pushed him finally over the edge and he kissed her again roughly. The taste of their blood mixing in their mouths as Sherlock forced her to part her lips. His free hand now trailed down her small posture to get a firm hold on her waist, pushing her against him and Gemma gave in. Her eyes fluttered shut and a sigh aspirated in their kiss. It was the most delicate, the most needed kiss, but Gemma felt a hint of panic rising in her chest. The loss of control changed the kiss in something different.

Excitement flooded Sherlock's body and he loosened the grip around her wrists to pull of her exquisite coat. And like it was her cue Gemma with her hands free pushed him away as hard as she could. Her heart bumped against her chest and she thought her rips might not be able to hold it. Heavy breaths made it hard for her to articulate and so did Sherlock´s puzzled face. "Don´t," was the only thing she managed to exclaim. She straightened up whipping away the blood on her lips with the back of her hand. "You wanted this in the first place, I don´t understand, I finally give in and now you don´t want me to!" Sherlock´s confusion was almost touchable between them. "I never – I -" Her head dropped a little bit and she stormed out of the alley.

Sherlock didn´t entertain himself as an expert in things concerning sex, but he knew that this was odd. Something was off about her. So what? Why was he even wondering? She was a pretty insane criminal mastermind, her behavior was always odd and off. He tried to clean himself up a bit and walked slowly back to the hotel. Pain ran through his body with every step and the rain didn´t make it any more comfortable to be outside. When he reached the hotel there were no signs of Gemma and he couldn´t help but feel concern. The small hotel she had picked for their vacations had just a small desk and no one was there. Sherlock didn´t mind he was in no mood to explain the bruises in his face that had started to form. Easily he lent over the desk to look for his key, oddly it was already gone.


	9. Chapter 9

NOTE: Thank you guys for reading! Hope you enjoy reading! I think I mentioned before English is not my first language, bit I hope you don´t mind. Trying my best

This part involves some talking about Gemma´s past, it is going to be quite rough so a little warning for mentioning of violence and drugs and suicide. Gemma is not exactly like Moriarty in the show and of course the past is made up by me ;) And we here some words from John and Mycroft!

Chapter 9: Sometime the past is something you cannot run away from

When John glanced at his buzzing phone he was more than surprised to see Mycroft calling. His eyebrows knit together as he finally answered the odd call.

"Mycroft." He sighed. "What can I do for you?"

"John." Mycroft was as stiff as ever and John could easily imagine him straightening his back in his office chair. "I am truly sorry to bother you, but I cannot reach my dear brother and it is urgent." The last word sounded kind of pressed.

John smiled to himself when he answered: "Why don´t you just use your surveillance?"

Mycroft made an angry noise that made John´s smile wider.

"If I knew where he was I would spare me the trouble of even considering talking to you!" He spat out through gritted teeth.

"Fine." John replied slightly annoyed now. "He told me he would visit your parents for a long weekend. He left early this morning."

There followed a long silence and John jumped a bit when Mycroft practically screamed.

"WHAT?!"

"Your parents."

"He never visits them." Mycroft struggled to regain his posture again and then muttered something under his breath what sounded a lot like a curse. "John, would you be so kind and try to reach him for me?" His voice now thick and sweet.

John sighed again heavily. "Can´t you just wait until he´s back? He said he would return Sunday."

"No, this matter is urgent as I told you! And he is certainly not with our parents!"

"So? If he wants to be left alone for a few days it should be fine!" John felt tired but he couldn´t ignore the slight concerned feeling in his stomach. The word _drugs_ appeared in his mind.

"Please try to contact him."

And with that Mycroft hung up and the line went dead. John looked down on his phone thinking about it but decided it could wait until tomorrow. He leant back in the cushions on the couch and turned his attention back to the television show he was watching, some rerun of old Doctor Who episodes.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and realized that she was back. Quickly he climbed the stairs taking two steps at ones. When he came to a stop in front of their room he hesitated for a few seconds before opening the door. He would simply refuse to talk to her and when some time would have passed he would ask John (of course in a way that would have nothing to do with him personally), he did know this kind of _stuff_ better. But on the other hand John messed up most of his relationships so maybe Molly was a better choice, she was at least a woman too. Slowly the wooden door opened and Sherlock stepped inside. The rug swallowed the sound of his steps so Sherlock caught a glance of Gemma sitting on the bed facing away from him with hanging shoulders and he couldn´t help but think she looked somehow tired, defeated even.

However it was only a brief moment before she turned to look at him. All signs of it removed from her body language, her face unreadable. Her lip was a little bit swollen and a blue and violet bruise started to form on her cheekbone. With a low thud Sherlock closed the door and it was the last sound for a long time of heavy silence.

Eventually he decided to throw his coat over one of the chairs and sit on the couch his hand in their usual position under his chin.

"What do we deduce about that?" Gemma finally said and her smile was weak and the fatigue returned to her features.

"I do have some suggestions but I would rather not tell you; I would prefer if you tell me." A flicker in her eyes told him a lot nevertheless he remained silent, because what he assumed was a hard and in fact hurting thing to tell. And if she would let her mask slip that much in front of him things would never be the same again. He admired her intellect, her creativity and she was intriguing. He felt drawn to her more than he would ever admit, but there was something else underneath something _damaged_. Gemma rose from the bed and grabbed her purse to retrieve a pack of cigarettes.

"Smoking is forbidden." Sherlock stated when he really wanted to ask for one instead.

Gemma rolled her eyes at the absurdness of his statement; to tell a criminal something he was about to do was forbidden was kind of hilarious. She lit the cigarette nonetheless opened the skylight wide and leaned on the window sill.

"Do you want to hear the whole story?"

"I suppose."

"Then it is going to be a long night. And I will certainly need a drink. Aaaaand you should know you will NOT like it at all. I am not a good person, Sherlock and I never was nor will be."

Sherlock shrugged, he knew already that he didn´t care enough to turn her in and that he was to drawn to her to resist right now. Later there will still be time, maybe…

She started with a glass of red wine in her hand and a comfortable cardigan wrapped around her black silk dress. Sherlock was still seated on the couch and she took the armchair on the opposite with only the small table between them. He had kept his hands stapled and his eyebrows furrowed while she seemed to consider what to tell. Finally Sherlock broke the silence no longer able to hold back his curiosity. It was still his first case and he never figured out the motive.

"Why did you kill the kid at the swimming pool?"

She looked up in his eyes a small smile on her lips.

"You are curious." She stated bemused. "After all this years and those hints I had to give you, you could never figure it out. Who´s smarter now?"

"So enlighten me."

"He was my first as you might have figured out. He laughed at me."

When Sherlock realized she wouldn´t offer more he leaned forward and asked again:

"You´re not going out there and kill a guy in school just because he laughed at you. Not even you are _that_ crazy." Gemma frowned and then started to laugh her wine almost sipping over the edge of the glass when her whole body rocked with the laughter.

"Do not underestimate me, Sherlock!" And she went very still and spat the words at him her teeth bared: "Because he deserved it. That´s why!"

"No." Sherlock was all calm and controlled. "He did something, something that triggered your action. Maybe he was a bully but that would never make you act reckless, you could´ve handled that differently. He _did_ something." Sherlock was lost in thoughts for a moment before he caught her eye again.

"Very well." Her eyes flickered to the table for a second then she shrugged leaned back and added: "Maybe because he did something to someone I cared about and maybe I tried to tell people but they wouldn´t listen and eventually I dealt with it myself." Sherlock nodded and seemed convinced but couldn´t let it go: "He was just a kid, only sixteen."

"He deserved it." Gemma´s eyes gone cold and her voice was gravely, danger and warning dripping from every word. Sherlock knew better than to push the matter.

"Is it going to be like that?" he asked calmly.

"What?" Gemma looked puzzled.

"I understood you would tell me, not me figuring it out by myself."

She smiled but her eyes were still cold they were still clouded with the memories.

"Fine. Ask me anything, I´ll tell you what I think suitable for your ears."

"When I first became aware of you I tried to find information but there was nearly nothing and I have access to every sort of information. Most people think you are a man. Tell me how you became a consulting criminal." Sherlock was eager to get that intel and store it for a later occasion.

"Oh Sherlock, really you think I am that careless to leave stuff about me lie around for anyone to find? Not even you or your dear brother will find anything, maybe Moriarty isn´t even my real name. Nonetheless I´m not giving you something you could use against me." She smiled genuine this time. "But nice try. Though some basic data shouldn´t hurt. Swimming pool guy was my first. When I turned sixteen I killed the second one. At seventeen I left the village I grew up in to go to university. I started dealing drugs, than producing them, developing my own little enterprise. I started to kill again, never got arrested for anything though. Finally I started to commit crimes for others. I dealt information and stopped dealing drugs. I still own a lot of the production though. And I know you have been one of my clients, well not directly of course, but still I was aware of you. I learned you´d looked into my first murder and I was fascinated with you ever since."

"You´ve been aware of me all the time." It was no real question. Sherlock was startled and Gemma liked to see him like that. She winked at him and whispered: "I´m kind of a stalker, you know. But I was always curious so tell me: You and the drugs, what is that about?"

Sherlock jaw tightened and his mouth was set in a firm line.

Gemma pouted: "I though this talk went both ways." She gestured loosely between them.

"Whatever then at least ask me something before I get bored."

"The second one. You mentioned it particular."

"Well I didn´t kill him to be honest. He killed himself because of me. He was a priest in my town and fell for me. Or better I made him fall for me. Literally." She giggled a bit at her own joke. Sherlock remained silent and she sighed annoyed. "You are no fun at all, are you? When he saw me for what I was and still loved me he could not take it. That morning on my way to school I passed by the church and he stood on the roof. He´d waited for me to see what I ´d done to him. He looked me straight in the eyes the moment he jumped silently accusing me. I remember the terror in his eyes as he saw my smirk before he landed in front of me on the cobblestone, smashed and bloody." Gemma hold Sherlock´s gaze while she spoke, she didn´t want to miss the reaction in his eyes but to her surprise he asked: "Did you sleep with him?"

Confusion was written all over her face. She answered anyway in a low voice: "Yes."

Sherlock had risen to his feet before she realized what he was doing. The glass of wine fell from her hand to the carpet and red liquid spilled over it. Sherlock arms were on either side of her grabbing the arms of the chair looming over her. His voice was low rumbling in his chest: "Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy making him fall?" Gemma hold her breath his face much too close and she made a decision a stupid one but who cares. "Yes."

Her hands gripped his stupid purple shirt her eyes focused on his when she spoke again.

"And I will enjoy making you fall even more."

Her grip on his shirt made it easy to pull him down the last inches before she pushed her lips against his the second time this night. Sherlock growled and he kissed her back hard.

Gemma was not certain that this was the right thing; she thought herself above these things for some time now, but Sherlock´s lips moving against hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, it was intoxicating. She could take it and she wanted to since the first time she´d laid eyes on him. She wanted to touch him, to have him, to possess him, to break him.


	10. Chapter 10

NOTE: So…here it comes, beware: Sex is about to happen (first time I write it so don´t expect too much!), aaand more important graphic mentionings of violence, torture and rape! So be warned!

PS: I appreciate that people actually follow my story, so thank you guys!

Chapter 10: Give me touch 'cause I've been missing it*

Sherlock pulled her to her feet and Gemma swayed the slightest bit. It was stupid to give an enemy such an advantage! Just plain stupid! She was far too tipsy but on the other hand it would probably be the only way to actually fuck him. So she just sank against his hard chest when his arms went around her waist and her shoulders.

As he kissed her again Gemma thought for a moment the world was spinning, she felt lightheaded and cut off from everything. Sherlock broke the kiss his breath lingering on her lips just a moment his eyes were locked to hers like he was searching for some kind of permission to go on. 'Sherlock.' was all she could muster but the urgency in her tone seemed to be all he needed to hear before he started to kiss her again with more force than before.

The sensation of his tongue in combination with alcohol made her feel all tingly. 'Like a teenager', she thought and slid her leg up around his hip to pull him closer, Sherlock´s hand was on her thigh immediately holding it in place grinding against her. Slowly he trailed kisses down her jaw - Gemma let her head drop back - to her neck – she pressed her eyes shut -biting in the curve where her neck melted into her shoulder – her eyes fluttered open wide with surprise, she didn´t take him to be the possessive type – his tongue licked a long stripe over the mark he´d left – now Gemma realized that his other hand did a good job in sliding the cardigan and her dress over her shoulder. By the way he touched her, she started to think that maybe 'The Virgin' was an inadequate nickname or he was just very intuitive.

Gemma found her arms hanging useless by her sides not doing much since when was she that impassive? So she gripped his shirt and started to unbutton it, pushing Sherlock´s head up in the process and kissing and biting his neck. She got distracted from her task to get the shirt out of the way by the taste of his smooth skin; her hands wandered up instead one curled into his dark hair to pull his head back to give her better access. She wasn´t gentle and Sherlock dark growl as she bit down way too hard made her other hand – still on his shirt – rip it open accidently. Sherlock´s hand ran up her spine and fisted in her curls to pull her head back. He forced her to look up and Gemma just flashed him a wicked grin before she let her fingernails trail over his bare chest. His expression told her that he wanted nothing more than to swipe that smile off of her face and by far the easiest way to do it was to kiss her again. Gemma´s nails dug into the soft skin of his chest leaving angry red marks in the process.

When they broke the apart both were heavily panting Sherlock´s eyes were darker now and he loomed over her for a moment before he pushed her shoulders and Gemma stumbled backwards; she couldn´t tear away from his eyes and the small smirk around his lips when he pushed her back again. She stumbled even more until her legs hit the edge of the bed; one last shove from Sherlock made her fall onto the bed and he climbed on top of her instantly; his legs to either side of her hip. Instinctively Gemma tried to get away and awkwardly pulled herself further on the bed until she hit the headboard but Sherlock just came after her easily.

His hand slowly shoved the fabric of her dress over her thigh further up to her waist. His arm snaked around her and pulled her down in a reclining position.

Sherlock leaned in close to her ear his breath tickled her the slightest bit as he whispered: "If you don´t want this I´ll stop." His voice was low and Gemma wished he would whisper dirty things instead of nice ones. "One word and I will be gone. But if you don´t stop me, I am going to fuck you, Gemma." For a brief moment Gemma closed her eyes, drew a shuddering breath and answered: "I might kill you if you don´t."

Clothes were pulled out of the way roughly falling to the floor. Gemma had imagined it differently but Sherlock was gentler now. Light touches and kisses until they were both naked and their bodies pushed flush against each other. Gemma´s body tingled with anticipation when Sherlock´s hand run up and down her right side and pulled her leg up a bit. He propped himself up on his other arm his eyes roaming over her body before she could feel him pushing against her entrance. He would not ask again, she knew that much, his bod was hot, his cheeks flushed and his cock was hard against her. 'God he is far too beautiful like that', she thought, shivering when his hand curled over her hip into a tight grip to hold her in place. He got very still for a few heartbeats until his gaze found hers again, he wanted to see her. For a second the intrusion felt wrong and Gemma wanted to back away from this but Sherlock hold her gaze steadily and pushed further and she was lost to the feeling. A low moan escaped her lips, her eyes fluttered shut. After that it was all a blur; Sherlock´s hand were everywhere, his kisses demanding and the low words he whispered in her ear drove her mad. She knew that she wouldn´t last long but that was just ridiculous: a few minutes of gentle rocking of his hips and a few mumbled dirty words later she came hard, crying out his name and digging her nails into his back leaving a new marks on his skin. He slowed down even more until she managed to open her eyes again still breathing heavily. The satisfied smirk on his face told her enough, that bastard. But he wasn´t done jet slowly shifting positions until Gemma on her hands and knees and Gemma just let him fuck her like this even though she´d never liked that particular position. He sneaked an arm around her body holding his weight with his other one on the bed his body was flush against hers again. His free hand went slowly down between her legs; his touches were the most skilled Gemma had ever experienced; his face close to hers he started kissing her neck up to her earlobe until she was a panting mess underneath him practically begging for more. The speed of his movements increased and got harder against her hips until she felt another orgasm build low in her stomach. One more skilled movement of Sherlock´s hand and she came again longer and deeper than the first time. She was barely aware of anything for some time just concentrated on breathing as Sherlock simply put her back on her back. 'How can he still not be done? I was most definitely wrong about him being a virgin.' Gemma thought somewhere in the back of her mind. Sherlock leaned down and kissed her again hot and passionate, he wouldn´t last much longer. Gemma pushed him back, Sherlock looked honestly surprised for a moment until he realized what she was about to do. She made him sit against the headboard and climbed on top of him. While she slowly sank back down on his cock he closed her eyes and a deep moan filled the room. Ever so slowly she started to rock her hips against him, much too slow for him but he seemed to like the torture. She kissed him deep pushing her tongue down his throat when she started to increase the rhythm at the same time. When Sherlock came it was unexpected (at least for him) his finger digging in Gemma´s hips leaving bruises, moaning loud sighing her name at the end and it was probably the hottest thing Gemma ever heard.

They stayed like this for a couple of minutes before Gemma settled herself under a blanket. Sherlock took a few moments longer to regain some kind of consciousness and slid down until he was next to her offering his arm for her to rest her head on it. Gemma looked at him confused for a moment in normal cases she wouldn´t even consider something like cuddling but this wasn´t a normal case after all. Carefully she rested her head on his shoulder tangling their limbs together. 'It was kind of nice with him', she mused.

"That was kinda nice." She mumbled half asleep already.

"You expected differently?" Sherlock asked as if it was a matter of fact that the world greatest detective would also be the world greatest lover.

Gemma chuckled and answered: "Guess I was wrong picking that nickname for you."

Sherlock only chuckled and shortly after that they were both sleeping.

When Gemma woke up from the deepest sleep she´d in years, she was surprised to see Sherlock next to her side propped up on his elbow. His chest still bare and he´d this serious look on his face, brows drawn together with a look of determination.

"What are you doing, Sherlock?" She mumbled sleepily while closing her eyes again dragging her arm over her face.

"Counting your scares. I noticed them last night but I considered it inappropriate to do it then." Sherlock stated calmly.

"How thoughtful of you…" Gemma sighed.

Gemma slowly shoved her arm a bit further up to her forehead and opened one of her eyes to stare at Sherlock vexed. Her open eye looked down her body to realize she was not only completely naked but without a blanket either. She had never been uncomfortable with her body so why bother now? Though she didn´t like the way he kept looking at her because every little scare would tell him something and all those scares on her thighs? They already told him the story she didn´t tell last night. She pushed herself off the bed abruptly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to sit there for a moment before she remembered the deep scares on her back, Sherlock would count now. The headache when she finally stood, told her that she definitely drank too much last night. Slowly she made her way over to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath and another but she couldn´t find the usual calm in her and the only coherent thought in her head was: 'This was a big mistake.' Deciding a shower might help her mind and her headache she turned it on and waited until it was hot and stepped under the hot stream. Slowly her muscles in her shoulders started to relax. Her gaze wandered down her body and she wondered how many scares were there, she never had bothered to count them. They were just a reminder of the life she´d chosen: a dangerous but thrilling one.

_When Gemma woke up the light over her head blinded her and she had to blink a few times to adjust. A bunch of memories flooded back: the dizzy feeling, the little arrow she found on her neck that told her she´d been poisoned, a group of men grabbing her and dragging her inside a car and the darkness. She´d known things like this were likely to happen to a person in her position so she used to have protection but today she´d been alone. Someone must have known. Now she was tied to a chair, half lying her arms restrained with leathercuffs like her spread apart legs, in some kind of warehouse room naked. The chair remembered her of those dentist used or gynecologist. She felt her heartbeat increase the sound of it loud in her ears panic starting to flood her entire system but she knew better than to give in to that. She was too well trained, torture was nothing that scared her anymore, she´d seen and endured enough of it already. Her parents had trained her well. There was no chance to get any information out of her. She would rather die and dying was the end of it anyway, no need to give them any satisfaction over it. Better to look at the present to weigh her options._

_1. This was too well prepared, no chance they didn´t leave her phone behind and the transmitter she wore in her clothes, but those were gone anyway (which made her quite angry)_

_2. They didn´t find the transmitter under her skin yet so most likely it would take her men to rescue her approximately 4 to 5 hours to realize her being missing and to start the search. After about 3 hours they will probably find her phone, after 4 they will try finding her over the transmitter under her skin, after 5 they will have her location narrowed down and will start the search in a radius of 2 Kilometers, after 6,5 they will get here, after 7 they will find her, dead or alive._

_Seven hours of torture could mean her certain death; they probably know there is no time to waste. Weighing options was rather unpleasant:_

_3. Gemma had to get out of here herself alive or _

_4. wait for rescue just to be found dead. _

_Option 3 it is. But until the moment was convenient she needed to wait. _

_Pain had never been a problem; she could handle that, no problem at all. _

_Her vision had cleared by now, quickly she took the rest of the room in: A tray next to the chair with instruments for torture and something that caught her eye: shards. That was a rare thing to use shards and she knew exactly who the man supposed to torture her would be._

_José Angel Ramirez. A specialist in his field._

_A further look around confirmed her guess. A huge man with broad shoulders stood a few feet away with his back to her. His skull was shaven and tattooed. Over his white shirt he wore a leather apron. But who cares who he was he will be dead in a few hours anyway._

'_And there was no need to wait lets get this game started.' Gemma sighed to get the man´s attention: "Mr. Ramirez, so nice to finally meet you in person. I always admired your handy work." Startled by her voice her turned around to face her. He flashed her a smile and answered like this was some kind of business meeting: "Ms. Moriarty." His south-american accent heavy. "It´s a pleasure. I do not often get the chance to get acquainted with someone of your prominence. But I guess my bosses don´t know half of what I know about you."_

_Gemma gave him a lazy smile: "You are too kind." And after a moment she added: "They will know pretty soon."_

"_I am sorry to contradict, Ms. Moriarty, but you will sadly not live to see that."_

_Gemma chuckled: "Wanne bet?"_

_Ramirez shrugged his shoulders and his smile faded. When he spoke again he slowly walked over to the tray to sort through his instruments. "This is just my job but I didn´t get my reputation by not making it right, so no. You will lose this bet." Casually he eyed his instruments and Gemma knew talking was over. "When I work with woman I usually start with the soft torture as we call it." He looked at her intently and seemed surprised to not get the desired reaction. Gemma already knew and simply shrugged. His expression changed to an angry grimace. With long finger he grabbed a scalpel setting the blade on her upper arm almost gently pushing it down, breaking the skin, cutting into the flesh. Blood poured out of the wound running down her arm to drip on the floor. Gemma didn´t even flinch. The man seemed to get annoyed with her attitude and grabbed a bag of salt from the table pouring it into his hand to rub it in the open wound. There was still not much of a reaction except her eyes started to water but she blinked the tears away. Ramirez was a mixture of stunned and angry, he threw the bag and the scalpel back on the metal tray only to step between her thighs. Gemma knew it was no use not to scream and beg because it only turned the torturer angry, but emotions mean carelessness. And she was counting on that. Nevertheless she turned her gaze away from what was about to happen next, it was enough to hear him open the fly of his jeans preparing himself to rape her. Gemma wanted to fade out but if she did she could miss the moment. Slowly she closed her eyes just for a second she could do it, but she needed to stay focused. Still everything moved a little further away, the disgusting grunt of the man pushing in her, the pain, the movement of their bodies. _

_It was over quickly and when the man stepped back to fix his clothes he trapped against the tray and it moved the slightest bit nearer to Gemma´s right hand. She felt horrible but now was not the time to dwell on it even though she felt the remains he left in her trickling down the inside of her thigh. _

_One thing she remembered clearly about him was the use of the shards. He liked to cut deep wounds into the thighs of his female victims. They would leave irregular scares that would never heal to invisibility; those scares were meant to stay deep and bright white on the skin. For preparation he put on a glove so he would not cut himself while cutting in her leg. Gemma loathed the thought of more scares when he grinned at her and started cutting deep in the soft skin just above her knee. Four deep bleeding wounds on the inside of her thigh and he changed the side to give her other leg the same treatment. The second fact she remembered was what else he liked to do after the legs were done and she didn´t like the idea of being fucked with a shard just one bit. And though she could endure pain on an unbelievable high level she wouldn´t take that without screaming. Her torturer was livid by her inviolacy but he stopped. Gemma could hear his phone buzzing in the front pocket of the apron and realized that he was talking on the phone when she´d woken up and he´d stood with his back to her. He growled and threw the shard careless onto the tray to grab his phone, when he answered the call he turned away._

_This was the moment she´d been waiting for; the bloody shard was close to her fingertips and she stretched her fingers to get it. 'That´s the only chance you will get or you will die!' Her mind screamed at her. Her arm hurt like hell but she managed to get hold of the shard to pull it closer inch by inch until she held it in her hand. She grabbed it tight and started immediately to cut through the leather. 'Never use leather-cuffs, amateur!' She was warily aware of the conversation taking place on the phone. The caller wanted his answers more quickly than Ramirez was obliged to deliver. The argument was loud and soon heated, which was her luck so he didn´t hear the leather ripping apart. The inside of her whole hand was bleeding violently but she couldn´t care less right now. Fast she reached for one of the scalpels to cut open the other cuff. The blade ran through the leather like butter. Her feet were next and by the time Ramirez hung up and turned around his victim was gone._

"_What the hell…" Was all he could muster before the scalpel was pushed into the artery of his neck. _

"_I think I win", were the last words he heard as he sunk to the ground his hands on his neck trying feverishly to stop the bleeding. The last thing he saw was the naked, bloody woman with a cruel smile on her face, standing over his dying body. _

_Gemma didn´t lose time, her clothes weren´t in the room. She kept the scalpel for eventual guard outside and made a new plan:_

_1. Search and find a medkit. Get patched up._

_2. Find clothes._

_3. Kill every fucking one responsible for this._

_4. Get the hell out of here._

_The door to the room was made of heavy metal, it didn´t matter if she would try to open it slowly it would creak any way so she pushed it completely open. As expected there´re two guards startled by the opening left and right to the door. Gemma wasn´t in the mood for stealth so she kicked the left one right in the face while she grabbed the head of the other in a headlock slitting his throat with one fine movement. The other one stumbled back as she released the dying one from her grip turning elegantly around his body and grabbing the gun from his belt. Luckily the guard had a silencer on his gun and the shot wasn´t too loud. The second guard was dead. Gemma kept the gun and left the scalpel walking down the hall leaving bloody footprints on the concrete. _

_Warehouses were always built in the same manner and Gemma found her way around easily. She killed two more guards on her way not even stopping her step in the process. In a cupboard down the hall she found a medkit and took it with her until she would find a place to use it. The next door on the right let to the office area, Gemma could peer through the glass window of the door and saw it was empty. She entered to see that the room was stuffed with offices with a corridor in the middle leading up to meeting room. On the other end were bathrooms, just what she needed. Suddenly she heard the creak of the door being opened on the far end and ducked behind a desk. A woman probably the secretary entered the office with a tray in her hand. Her blonde hair made into a sleek ponytail that whipped with her movement. When she passed her, Gemma got swiftly to her feet putting the gun to the secretary´s head. _

"_Scream and you are dead." The woman made a noise like a frightened mouse but obliged and let Gemma push her into the bathroom. _

"_Sit down and don´t say a word." The secretary looked scared her eyes all big, she´d just been kidnapped by a bleeding naked woman with a gun. Gemma started to whip the blood away with tissues and carefully patched her thighs up with band aid. "Wrap it around my arm!" She grunted and held out some band aid to the secretary. The woman took it with trembling hands and carefully wrapped it around the wound on Gemma´s arm and then her right hand. "Great, thanks a lot. Now I need your clothes!" The blonde woman flinched, but Gemma had no time for this shit: "NOW!" She quickly began to undress until she was wearing nothing else but her bra and panties. Gemma took the dark blue skirt, the white blouse and the jacket and dressed. It was all a bit too big because the woman was a lot taller than her. "Your shoes." Gemma stated calmly not bothering to look up, when nothing happened, she added: "I cannot go without shoes, can I?" _

_Gemma left the bathroom feeling a lot better, she´d tied up the secretary, a gun in her hand, now was the time to kill someone._

_Determined with long strides Gemma walked down the corridor between the desks to the meeting room door her heels clicking on the floor._

_The door flew open with a strong kick and five men wheeled their heads to the entrance to see a small woman with a wicked smirk standing casually in the doorframe holding a gun._

"_I didn´t mean to interrupt…" She stated dryly while walking around the conference table eyeing the men in their business suits. "But I presume you are talking about me anyway. Soooo why don´t you just ask me what you want to know?" She raised her eyebrows with the question._

"_That´s impossible!" A man in a grey suit cried out._

_Gemma laughed humorlessly: "Because you hired the best to get to me? Well…Guess what? I AM THE BEST! SO YOU GOING TO TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT YOU WANT!"_

_She pointed the gun at the boss, she´d spotted him easily; the one who was still completely calm while everyone else was sweating like pigs. _

_He got up brushing dusk off his suit: "We knew you betrayed us and sold us out, we needed to know whom to."_

_Gemma chuckled shook her head in disbelief: "If you happened to be any smarter you would´ve found out by yourself or you could´ve asked, I would´ve given you this information for free… Now you´ll all just DIE!" And with that she raised the gun again and killed every single man in the room. "Thank you very much for doing business with us." And with that she turned around and left._

_She sat outside the building for almost half an hour (she´d called her men with one of the phone´s the dead man didn´t obviously need that any more) before her men arrived outside the warehouse in three big SUVs all jumping out heavily armed. She got up breathing unsteady; the blood had soaked through the bandages. A tall man in a suit climbed out of one of the cars: "Gemma! Thank god you´re all right!" He ran over and caught her in his arms before she collapsed. "Moran." Gemma rasped. She couldn´t see straight any more everything was a blur. "I´d to do all the work myself, but hey! Thanks for picking me up. Oh and your men don´t need to go in there, they are all dead." Moran had this typical concerned look on his face, he sighed: "Gemma I´m so sorry." But she was already unconscious in his arms and he picked her up carefully to take her home._

Gemma shook her head in an attempt to shake those memories off. When she opened her eyes again Sherlock stood right in front of her in the shower with a frown on his face displaying concern.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"About five minutes."

She threw her arms around him and kissed him fiercely until both were panting.

* Songtext from Daugther "Touch"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

NOTE: Sooo there has been a lot of badass Gemma in the last chapter but as well a lot of things that happened to her. So this one is a bit slower and I finally have decided how it´s going to end

Gemma woke up in the darkness of an unknown room another person´s breath close to her ear and a foreign arm draped over her body. She could feel the drying sweat on her skin making her shiver. Slowly her senses came back to her and she remembered where she was who was sleeping next to her. It was only a dream she tried to tell herself, only a nightmare.

Sherlock stirred next to her and she turned her gaze to look at him. They´d had sex most of the day and hadn´t left the room at all. Sherlock didn´t wake up and Gemma climbed out of the bed carefully and walked through the room putting on a robe in the process. She was searching for Sherlock´s phone it´d been buzzing a few times that day or the last one, she wasn´t exactly sure what time it was. It rested on the small table next to the couch and picked it up with a last glance back but Sherlock was still fast asleep. Ten missed calls and a few texts from John were showing on the display. She didn´t know Sherlock´s code and she knew it was no need to try he wouldn´t have used something like a birthdate. The text started with: "Sherlock! Where the hell are you? Mycroft is furious… " Gemma smiled to herself, corrupting good men was fun. Here was the great Sherlock Holmes naked in her bed sleeping tight after an exhausting day ignoring his family and friends. If they knew where he was and most of all with whom they wouldn´t exactly be thrilled. The great detective never shown any interest in another person and now fucking the one person on earth he should not. It was really ironic. Mycroft should´ve left her alone in the first place before that Gemma had never considered taking a bigger interest in Sherlock Holmes. She put the phone back and slipped back under the still warm covers of the bed.

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock mumbled incoherently.

Gemma hid her surprise. ´What a bastard´, she thought. Sherlock´s arm sneaked around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Your boyfriend called and texted several times." She stated resting her head on his shoulder. She nuzzled her nose in the crook of his neck liking the way he smelled. Sherlock raised his head a bit quirking on eyebrow up.

"John?" He asked after a while.

"Mmhmm." Gemma started to kiss his collarbone.

"What does he want?" Sherlock was about to raise and Gemma whined pushing him down again.

"Something like: where are you? Mycroft is angry! Blabla." There was a stretched silence before Sherlock sighed and got up to get his phone. With the device in hand he climbed over Gemma back into the warmth of the bed.

After a moment while Sherlock stared intently at his phone flickering through missed calls and texts Gemma asked: "What might be the problem?"

"My cover blew." Sherlock was half sitting his back up against the headboard. Gemma pushed herself up to get a better look at the texts Sherlock was reading but he put the phone down and sighed.

"Mycroft is trying to reach me. I have to get back to London." Gemma felt an unpleasant pit settling in her stomach she didn´t like that.

"Now?" Sherlock´s pale eyes rested on her thinking about the question but instead of getting up again he grabbed her small body and pulled her on top of him. Then he cupped her face with his long slender fingers he leaned in and his lips brushed hers gently.

"They can wait until tomorrow, I guess." His hands fell to the lapels of her robe and gripped the silky fabric to drag it over her shoulders.

London

Gemma sat in her office behind her mahogany desk.

When she´d started to make real money she´d carefully picked this antic desk for her office. Normally clients never came in here but business partners were allowed to actually see her face to face and she knew from several occasions that a desk tells a lot about its owner. So she´d chosen this desk: An antic one because she´d liked the thought of a value that remained through time, a big one to keep distance between herself and a business partner, a mahogany one because it was an elegant and timeless material and was somewhat feminine, and at least it was perfectly manufactured resembling the craft of someone who knew his business. Smart people saw all those details in the desk and in its owner. Less smart ones saw a big ass really expensive and massive table but those people rarely got the chance to talk to Gemma in person anyway.

Gemma had rested her forehead on the cool surface of the table. She was furious with herself and had a hard time to focus on work, all she could think of was Sherlock. `Mistake!´, was the one word her mind screamed at her with the occasional thought of: `Have that kind of sex again! Now!´

When they´d parted at the station on yesterday, they hadn´t agreed on nothing. And here Gemma was feeling like a teenager questioning all her life choices asking herself if she could be someone else doing something else.

"I need to get some work done or I will go crazy." She told herself. There is crime in needs to get committed!

The heavy wooden door opened and closed with a low thud. The steps of a tall man were muffled by the rug as he walked towards the desk where Gemma didn´t bother to get her head up. She could identify nearly all of her employees by their step.

"Moran, what do you want?" She groaned and doing him the favor to raise her head and slump back in her chair instead. Moran was a tall man in his late thirties; he had brown longish hair and was wearing a perfectly tailored suit like always he looked perfect while Gemma looked like crap today. The suit covered his muscular lean body that Gemma knew all too well. He was her expert for sniping missions but he was also a cold and calculating businessman. Those abilities made him Gemma´s second in command and her advisor. He was perfectly loyal and always had her back no matter what. No matter what she did. Even if she chose to screw her number one enemy; he still booked her train ticket. No matter his own feelings.

"Moriarty could you please consider to go back to work? We have a lot to do. And could you please stop behaving like a hormone-controlled teenager?"

"Fuck yourself!" Moran sighed putting a cup of coffee on Gemma´s desk next to the coaster because he knew how much she hated it. She raised an eyebrow in response and put the mug on the coaster.

"Alright, alright I will take care of our special client right now." Gemma sighed heavily again and started to sort through the papers on her desk when she didn´t hear Moran leaving she looked up again. "Something else?"

Moran frowned opened his mouth as if to say something but instead shook his head with a small smile and turned to leave the office.

Her special client was something like an old _friend_ from the old days when she still worked in the drug business herself. Friend was an odd term for someone who might kill you if the chances were lucky. But she owed him a favor and there was a new drug lord in the city building up a network without police notice yet. Gemma preferred to work with the wolves she knew rather than have to deal with someone new. It was easy enough: set up a murder case that will certainly attract police attention and more important media´s attention and let all the leads direct them in one direction: the new drug lord in town they didn´t even know of before. End his business before it will get too big and become a potential threat to her customers or herself. During the day Gemma sat everything up made a few calls called in some favors and bribed some policemen and managed to deal with some minor business as well.

The next morning the dead body of a junky will be found with evidence pointing in only one direction.

The next morning a fresh wind blew through the streets and Gemma pulled the beige trench coat close around her body. The sun was already out and shining cool strays through the small puffy clouds. Cheerful Gemma walked by the crime scene where a group of bystanders had already gathered shielded away from the alley by policemen and yellow tape. Gemma put on her big Chanel shades and pushed herself through to have a better look at her handy work. She stopped midmovement when she saw a familiar form kneeling next to the body. Sherlock had been called in for something trivial like that? John was standing close by with DI Lestrade.

Sherlock took in the crime scene kneeled down and got up again walking down the alley looking in the dumpster where the weapon was found. He turned around and watched the body again walked back and stopped by Lestrade and John.

"This is some kind of set-up." He stated.

"What? Sherlock are you serious? The evidence point to a new drug lord in town! We didn´t even know of before and you telling me he isn´t guilty?" Lestrade seemed honestly confused.

"Yes." Sherlock replied his gaze wandered over John and to the group of bystanders behind, he´d the feeling someone was watching him. "Someone set this up to let us think that this man is responsible, but why?" His moth still open to say some more but stopped dead when he saw the silhouette of a small woman with big shades smiling at him, she pulled her shades down a little bit that Sherlock could see her sparkling dark eyes. She winked at him before she quickly turned to leave and vanished in the crowd to the left.

"Sherlock?" John turned to follow his stare.

"I´ve got to go. I´ll talk to you later." And with that Sherlock turned into the alley already knowing the fastest way to cut Gemma´s route before she could get away. He sprinted down the alley and turned around a corner leaving John and Lestrade to stare after him.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted frustration obvious in his voice.

Gemma hadn´t considered that Sherlock would be involved in this and it made her life a lot more complicated right now. She walked with long strides down the street when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her inside another alley. It happened so quickly that Gemma realized what was happening when Sherlock slammed her against the wall holding her shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed, the line of his jaw was set tight and his eyes gleamed with fury.

"Working." Gemma stated calmly and tried to push him off but he wouldn´t let her.

"You did this! You set this up!"

"I just pointed the police in the general direction of a new drug lord rising in the city." She tried to shrug but the pressure of Sherlock´s hands on her shoulder made the movement awkward. "Just doing my duty as a good citizen."

"Don´t make me think you did this out of the generosity of your heart!" Sherlock spat the words leaning closer.

"No. I need him gone, Sherlock. And that is the easiest way to do so. I didn´t consider you to get involved." They stared at each other for several seconds the question obvious between them in the tension of their bodies. Instead of talking Sherlock started to work the buttons on Gemma´s trench coat open.

"Really you gonna fuck me in a dirty alley like some cheap whore?" Sherlock gave her a strange smile. She was so angry but he pushed his lips on hers to shut her up kissing her harshly channeling his anger in the kiss. His mouth forced her lips apart and their teeths collided nonetheless the kiss made her head spin and her arms hung useless at her sides. Why did he must have this effect on her? She felt like the nerdy girl being kissed by the coolest guy of the whole school behind the lockers. The brush of his fingers over the side of her thigh made her lift her leg to fit it around him. His whole length was pressed against her body while her back protested from being pushed against the uneven brick wall. He was always efficient no matter what he did even if it was taking her apart. She moaned into the kiss helplessly pushing her hips against him where she could feel him already hard. Now he slowly moved his hand up her thigh with firm pressure under the seam of her skirt up to her hip until he found the material of her lace panty. Slime fingers curled around the fabric on the side and with one strong movement he ripped them apart letting the rest of the expensive underwear drop to the concrete. Gemma whimpered squeezing her eyes shut while his other hand pulled her crisp white blouse from her skirt and slid underneath to feel the warm skin. He broke the kiss leaning close to her ear his voice so deep it stirred in her guts:

"Quite a bad whore I got there letting me do all the work!"

A shiver ran down her spine but still she felt unable to move. Oh how she hated him and his too sexy voice and the way he could make her into a whimpering mess in a dirty alley behind some dumpsters.

"Now be an obedient little whore and open my belt so I can finally fuck you and get out of here!" He growled and Gemma made a strange sound that startled herself but she raised her trembling fingers between them and tried to open his belt but failed miserably because she couldn´t really see what she was doing. Sherlock´s lips traveled over the soft skin of her neck and bit down hard. Gemma had to bite her bottom lip but tried again to open the damn belt and this time she was successful. She opened his pants and her hand slid inside but Sherlock grabbed her wrist pinning it over her head and his voice hit every nerve-ending in her body setting her on fire:

"I don´t want a filthy whore to touch me!" So instead he pulled his cock out of his pants himself grabbing her thigh again and pushing in her. She cried out but her voice was muffled by Sherlock´s hand. There was nothing gentle about the sex it was more about anger and control but Gemma didn´t found it in her to mind right now. Sherlock fucked her effective and ruthless against the wall. The whole time he covered her mouth with his hand to muffle the sound she made but more because he could until he changed his mind and picked her up. Gemma obliged and wrapped her legs around his hips her arms holding onto his shoulders. Sherlock changed the position of his arms wrapping one around her lower back and one around her shoulder blades like he tried to protect her back from being hit against the wall repeatedly. He kissed her again and let his tongue lick her lips in a gentle way. Gemma opened her mouse willingly. It was a deep and passionate kiss and Gemma moaned into his mouth.

She came hard without warning making her whole body convulse, clenching tight around Sherlock´s hardness inside of her. It was enough to kick Sherlock over the edge too. They were both panting still holding onto each other.

A few minutes passed before Sherlock set Gemma down gently kissing her again all soft lips and caresses. Then he pulled some tissues from his coat pocket and startled Gemma by cleaning both of them up.

"Do you pay me now?" She asked cocky raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock chuckled.

"Sorry but I think you should pay me." He raised an eyebrow and smirked before he leant down and kissed her again.

"Do you care for some breakfast?"

"I´m not hungry."

"Oh come on, don´t give me that, let´s have breakfast."

Sherlock sighed but offered her his arm which she took and they walked back on the now crowded street.

Mycroft sat in his office starring on pictures on his desk shaking his head. One of his agents had just dropped some surveillance footage. He sighed heavily putting his head in his hand: "Oh Sherlock what have you done now?"

The pictures showed Sherlock holding a girl on his arm and the particular girl was Gemma Moriarty.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

NOTE: A bit short, sry for that. Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoy the story because I´m getting more excited about it! Some more badass Gemma.

Gemma stood outside an abandoned building. The icy raindrops felt cool against her too hot skin. She felt like burning up. Nonetheless she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of an old green military parka and tilted her head up towards the rain. Without any make up and the faded jeans and sneakers she could be mistaken for a girl in her late teens. Better to know thy enemy had always been her devise. The house or the ruins of this building belonged to the new big up and coming drug dealer. A perfect place to sell just outside town close to a factory area. A lot of addicts hung around and with her cover Gemma fit in without being noticed. She knew the police would come out here for a drug bust in about 32 minutes. Thanks to her set up.

Normally she wouldn´t go on observation herself but she needed some kind of distraction. Her thoughts were occupied by pale blue eyes and having sex in dark alleys. Organization occupied most of her time and it was boring from time to time she liked to do some of the actual work herself. Heedfully she started towards an alley next to the building between this and another shabby building to its left. She passed some dumpsters and a guy with a black hoody standing behind it.

"Hey sweetheart!" He sneered taking a step forward.

Gemma ignored him and walked on keeping her head down and her shoulders hunched.

"Hey! Do you need something? I´m sure with your looks you don´t need to pay." Gemma took another step but the dealer grabbed her arm and turned her around.

"Yes you are a cutie!" He leaned closer opening the zipper of her parka. Gemma raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "You really should not do this, but there is something I need." He backed her up against the wall pushing his face against her neck. "What do you need?" He whispered against her skin.

She grabbed his wrist with her right and his hair with her left and set her leg behind his. "What the fuck…" He stumbled backwards tripping over her leg and fell to the wet concrete. "You bitch!" He snarled trying to get to his feet but Gemma kicked him hard in the face and he fell back blood exploding from his nose. Gemma kneeled down on his body grabbing his neck. "So sweetheart," she breathed in his face, "Is the boss at home?"

"Why should I tell you?" He chocked and Gemma punched him with her free hand. The drug dealer made a pained noise. Feebly he tried to struggle away what only caused Gemma to push her knee into is abdomen.

"I repeat: IS THE BOSS AT HOME?!" The man underneath her coughed up some of the blood that ran in his mouth from his bleeding nose. "Yes he´s in. He´s in!"

"Great!" She punched him out. Gemma got up and checked her watch it were 24 minutes left. Her hair was wet by now sticking to her face. She whipped her hand on the unconscious man´s hoody and walked to the back door. The door was a run down as the rest of the building so she simply kicked it open and stepped inside a room that had been a kitchen once.

Four guns were pointed at her and surprised expressions set on her small form. A man in an expensive suit stood behind the men with the guns. Gemma flashed them a crooked smile hands in the pockets of her parka.

"Good evening, gentleman."

The man in the suit stepped forward mirroring her smile.

"Miss Moriarty. What are you doing here?"

"Giving you a heads up. Police will be here in approximately 20 minutes."

"You messed up my business, Moriarty. To come here is not the smartest move." He took another step towards her into the light that hung from the ceiling; she could see his grey hair and his dark eyes clearly now.

"I came to warn you, I´m kind of a fair player. I don´t appreciate someone coming in this city and building up a new business threatening my own. I think you may understand my motives, Mr. Richards." She stroked a strand of dark hair from her eyes. Guns were still pointing at her but she wasn´t concerned; two throwing knives were stashed in her pockets a gun in her back pocket.

"I´ve heard a lot about you. People say you´re crazy but they also say you´re a man. I prefer to form my own opinion and I see you are clearly no man but crazy or probably reckless is the better word. No one threatens my business, Moriarty. You should´ve gathered information about who you´re dealing with." His friendly tone was completely gone and had turned into an ice cold hiss. Gemma laughed lightly before she stopped to fix her eyes on Mr. Richards with a cold glare.

"I don´t like your style, Mr. Richards. I did my homework and I know whom I´m dealing with. Make no mistake and underestimate me. I am the best. So two things, number one: Come in my way again and you won´t have time to regret it. Number two: Call me crazy again and you will have _weeks_ to regret it." She winked and turned on her heels to leave.

"Why shouldn´t I kill you right now?"

"Oh please try me." She said mockingly over her shoulder and left the same way she came. The police sirens howling in the distance and Gemma considered staying to see if Sherlock was with them but Lestrade wouldn´t take an addict to a drug bust if he could prevent it. So she left and headed back to her office.

Moran was furious when she returned. "Are you out of your mind?! Going in there alone without backup?! Just because you´re bored?!"

Gemma raised her eyebrows while drying her hair with the towel Moran just threw at her.

"I can handle myself, Moran. I needed to know whom I´m up against. His business is shut down for now but Mr. Richards doesn´t strike me us the guy who will accept when he´s defeated. He will most certainly come back."

"Gemma." He sighed pained expression on his face.

"Moran, you´re not my babysitter nor my husband. Don´t treat me like I´m not knowing what I do." Her voice was soft, she couldn´t risk to upset him she needed him.

"Oh please Gemma, don´t give me that shit!" She gave him a smirk and threw the towel in his face.

"See you tomorrow, Sebastian!" She turned grabbed her dark coat and headed out the door of her office.

She checked her phone once she was outside. Sherlock had written her a message to come to his apartment tomorrow night.

'You don´t get to order me around, Sherlock. What about tonight? GM' She replied a smile on her face.

'I´m busy. At a drug bust. Boring. SH' Sherlock stood close to the building Gemma had been an hour ago with a lot of policemen arresting junkies and dealers. Gemma cursed inwardly, she should´ve stick around a little longer. A few minutes later she got another text.

'I just heard the most interesting story from a beat up drug dealer. SH'

'Do tell. GM'

'He said that there was a girl with dark hair who beat him up and asked for the boss. Further he witnessed her kicking in a door and threatening the boss while four guns were hold to her head. SH'

'Who might that´ve been? GM'

'I don´t know, sounds crazy and stupid and reckless. I´ve someone in mind...who might come to my apartment tomorrow night to get fucked. SH'

'Didn´t know you were one for dirty talk ;) See u tomorrow. GM'

Gemma felt far too excited this wasn´t about sex. But she would never admit that she had feelings like this.


	13. Chapter 13

NOTE: I got a new review! Thank you so much Alucard's-Master! I hope you, my dear readers, are still enjoying the story.

A bit of domestic fluff and smut in here, but most of all it´s getting awkward! Maybe you didn´t notice but Gemma ships Johnlock ;) And it will be a bit sad

Chapter 13: And the world was gone*

The next night Gemma put on slim dark pants, flat black trainers and a dark shirt. She climbed the backside of the house easily opening one of the windows to let herself in and wait for Sherlock. She took her shoes off and left them at the window to walk barefoot to avoid making noises. She inspected the apartment and saw the spot where one of her man had put the camera once. She sat down on the couch and turned on the TV while she waited. Ten minutes later Gemma heard familiar footsteps on the stairs. The door to the flat opened and Sherlock let himself in with a plastic bag in his hand. Facing her just a moment and she could tell that he was surprised but covered it with a smirk and turned to hang his coat and that stupid blue scarf on the hook. Gemma knew he was only wearing it because it brings out the color of his eyes.

"So nice you´re finally home, honey. I didn´t make diner."

"How thoughtful of you but I bought take out anyway." He walked over to the couch with the bag and sat it on the table. Gemma looked up with an amused smile.

"Are we getting domestic here?" Sherlock raised one of his eyebrows but didn´t regard her with an answer instead walked over to the kitchen to fetch some plates and silverware. They ate in silence watching TV. After dinner Gemma felt more confused than ever since this thing between them started. She would have been fine with just staying on the couch watching pointless Television. What is this? Some weird kind of relationship? Gemma didn´t do relationships or cuddling but apparently she did right now. Sherlock´s arm was around her shoulders his fingers playing with her hair. Gemma knew Sherlock didn´t do this kind of thing either they both stepped out of their comfort zone.

"Should´ve killed you when I´d the chance." Gemma murmured cuddling closer to Sherlock´s chest. They stayed like this for a bit longer until Sherlock leaned down to kiss Gemma´s hair and Gemma turned her head so that she could face him.

"What is this Sherlock?" Her tone was serious.

Instead of answering Sherlock leaned down and kissed her. Just a chaste sweet kiss that made Gemma furious. She was on top of him so fast he had no time to fight her attack. She pushed her forearm against his throat his arms pinned to his side by her legs.

"Sherlock," she hissed ,"what the hell is THIS?" Sherlock´s lips curled into a smile and he whirled her around and pinned her on her back on the couch holding her arms over her head.

"I will kill you!" Gemma struggled underneath him. Her attempt to gain the upper hand and wrestle him off the couch failed miserably. It earned her a chuckle from the man above her. She growled at Sherlock´s smug smile. His free hand slide underneath her shirt up to her breasts and squeezed it. Involuntary Gemma arched her back off the couch into the touch that was close to painful now. "Sherlock." It was more of a strangled sound than anything else. Sherlock got up all of a sudden and Gemma felt lost without his touch.

"Bedroom now." Sherlock barked and instead of complaining Gemma scrambled to her feet, shut off the TV and quickly made her way over to Sherlock´s room. He was directly behind her when she turned to look at him he loomed over her. His irises were mostly covered with black he´d a hungry look on his face. "Get those clothes off!" Gemma wanted to scream at herself for being like that for acting like that but nevertheless she pulled her shirt over her head in one swift movement. She grabbed Sherlock´s button down and pulled it over his head and he leaned down to kiss her. This time it was demanding and rough. His hands travelled down to her pants unbuttoning them with slender hands. Gemma slid her arms around Sherlock´s waist pulling him closer to feel his skin on hers. In return Sherlock let one of his hands slide in the back of her pants to push her hips against his while his left hand landed in her hair to deepen the kiss. Sherlock whirled her around and hustled her down on the bed quickly he pulled down her pants and let his own drop to the floor before climbing on top of her. They kissed again and he opened her bra let it drop on the floor. Sherlock let kisses trail down from her collarbone over her breasts down to her right hipbone where his tongue followed the white line of a faint scar. A low moan escaped Gemma´s lips her hands fisted the sheets when Sherlock sucked on her scarred skin to leave a bruise to cover it. His lips went down over the fabric of her panties kissing his way over it to the sensitive skin between her legs. But he didn´t stop there and moved on to the inside of her thigh. His left hand moved underneath the hollow of her knee to push it up and give him better access. His lips caressed every scar on the inside of her left thigh. Licking over them, kissing them, sucking the skin. Her other thigh received the same treatment when Sherlock finished Gemma was a trembling mess underneath them making incoherent noises. He left his marks all over her marked skin and she couldn´t help but love the way he tried to erase this part of her. A shiver run down her spine by the thought of Sherlock´s possessiveness.

"Please, Sherlock…" She moaned.

"What please Sherlock?" He mocked kissing her neck.

"I hate you." She grabbed his curly hair and pulled him into a kiss letting her tongue run over his lips. "Fuck me." She whispered into his ear and she could feel him shudder under her hands. Sherlock leaned up and pulled her panties down quickly followed by his own.

They were kissing again and Gemma anticipated to feel him push into her but apparently he had other plans because his hand slid between her legs. Slowly two of her fingers pushed inside her causing her to moan into the kiss. It was too slow and too much at once. The muscles of her thighs contracting with the effort to hold still. How the hell did he know how to do this so perfectly? The slow deliberate movement of his fingers inside her drove her mad. She wanted him so bad she thought she couldn´t stand this torture any longer. So she pushed him over until he was on his back. Gemma thought that this was a game two could play. She pushed her hair out of the way and leaned down between his legs kissing his dick slowly from the tip downwards. Sherlock took a sharp breath he hadn´t obviously anticipated this and Gemma couldn't help but smirk. Her tongue trailed along his shaft caressing the tip before she took him into her mouth bowing her head down ever so slowly. Sherlock´s hand wandered to her hair his fingers curling around it and he gasped when she pulled back. The slow pace made him tremble and she felt a pang of satisfaction. He only let her go on for a few more slow movements before he pulled her up surprise written all over his face. Gemma realized through the haze of lust that this was probably a first for him and she felt pretty smug about it. Her right hand wandered down between their bodies to take hold of his erection to angle him the right way and then she pushed her hips down in a slow movement. Both stayed still for a long moment just looking at each other and taking deep breaths before Gemma started to move her hips. Again she´d the impression that her skin was on fire and she was far too hot.

Gemma came too quickly again and her body clenched around Sherlock´s cock and that was all it took for him to come buried deep inside her. She collapsed on top of him and they stayed like that until their breathing had evened out again.

After a quick shower they lay in bed cuddling both of them not daring to say a word that could possibly ruin everything until they fell asleep.

John called Sherlock´s name a few times before heading towards his bedroom. He stopped in front of the slightly ajar door and realized someone was in there. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he slowly pulled it out to see a message from Sherlock telling him to come to Scotland Yard asap. When Sherlock was at the police station who was in his bedroom? John returned to the living room as quiet as possible to retrieve his gun before he headed back to Sherlock´s room and opened the door without a second thought.

He was startled to see a pretty much naked woman with a mob of short dark spreading over Sherlock´s pillow instead of an intruder. John couldn´t comprehend what he was seeing. He´d seen a woman in Sherlock´s bed before but that had been Irene Adler and Sherlock had called him as soon as he´d seen her. This was entirely different. The woman sleeping in Sherlock´s bed now had clearly been here for a completely different reason. A lot of thoughts rushed through John´s mind, Sherlock had a woman over last night when John had been on a date, Sherlock left her alone in their apartment what must mean he trusts her and the most astonishing thing: Sherlock had sex with her?

The woman stirred and John wanted to get out of there before she would fully wake and this would become an awkward situation but his feet just wouldn´t move. Something about her seemed suddenly familiar and when she mumbled Sherlock´s name sleepily it hit him.

She turned her head and propped herself on her elbows lying on her stomach. John´s eyes grew wide with a mixture of surprise and fear and anger. The gun still in his right hand moved up on its own accord. Gemma Moriarty was in Sherlock´s bed? What the hell?

"Wha – What are you doing here?!" John pressed through gritted teeth. Gemma gave him a wicked smile not changing her position or covering up.

"What do you think, Doctor Watson?"

"Is this some kind of set up? What the hell are you doing in Sherlock´s bed?"

"Why, Doctor Watson? Do you wish it was you?" She winked and John flushed deep red. He didn't notice that Gemma had grabbed her phone with the right hand hidden from his sight. She sent a text to Sherlock:

'Your boyfriend caught us. Might get a little awkward, you should come over or one of us might end up dead. GM'

"Get up! Hands over your head! I´m calling the police!" John shouted.

Gemma swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up her hands over her head. Completely naked. John didn´t know where to look but he couldn´t let her out of sight. He tried to focus on her face with that crooked smile but couldn´t help to see her naked form. She was quite small but well trained though the curve of her hips was feminine. And he couldn´t help to notice the scars her whole body was covered with them; faint ones, deep ones and a purple bruise over her right hipbone. 'No', John thought, 'that´s a hickey!' And those bruises around her wrists? John shuddered he didn´t even want to think about it.

"Do you consider it wise to call the police? What do you tell them? You found me in your boyfriend´s bedroom?" She chuckled obviously amused by the situation.

"Sherlock is not – whatever. Just put some clothes on!"

Gemma obliged and searched for her panties on the bedroom floor when she found them and had put them on she started to search for her shirt but could only find Sherlock´s button down so she shrugged it on. It was long enough to cover her up.

John sighed heavily. "Into the living room!"

"You´re quite sexy with that dominant behavior." She winked at him again and John´s cheeks turned pink again.  
>"Stop flirting with me or whatever it is you´re doing." He put a hand on her arm and guided her into the living room.<p>

"Sit!" Gemma obediently sat down on Sherlock´s chair.

"I´m calling Sherlock. He´s quite some explaining to do." John started to search his pockets for his phone.

"No need he´s on his way." Gemma sighed.

After minutes of heavy silence after John had sat down on the chair opposite to Gemma´s and still pointing the gun at her; he couldn´t help his curiosity any longer.

"So what is this exactly?"

"What do you mean exactly?"

"Between you and Sherlock?" John started to get annoyed.

"What do you think this is?"

"For god´s sake just answer the question!"

"Some kind of curiosity?" Gemma answered nonchalantly.

"Curiosity?! Sherlock just goes out there and screws the one person in the world he shouldn´t?! Out of curiosity?!" John was mostly shouting now and to his growing anger Gemma just shrugged.

"Sherlock doesn´t do this!" John gestured widely towards Gemma.

"Sex?" She asked with raised eyebrows and a mocking tone.

"He never had someone over. He doesn´t screw around! He doesn´t even date!"

"Neither do I."

"Then what the hell is this?!"

"I don´t know, Doctor Watson." Gemma leaned forward. "He didn´t tell me."

An hour later Sherlock returned to the flat. John jumped to his feet facing the door. Sherlock opened the door and when his gaze lingered on Gemma for a moment she realized something had changed. She felt a twist in her stomach and an ice cold feeling settled there spreading through her whole body. She felt cold and lost for a second; her eyes had widened. A moment later she realized she´d been holding her breath. Instantly Gemma stood and turned toward the bedroom both men following her with their eyes. Once in the bedroom Gemma grabbed her clothes and got dressed. She shrugged on her jacket and took a steading breath. It was over.

Gemma heard John yelling in the living room. She looked at her hands; they´re trembling; she blinked and felt tears in her eyes. This couldn´t be real, she just got dumped without a word and she was _sad_? She knew she´d to go back to the living room. Just get it over with, she told herself and walked back. Sherlock didn´t even look at her. John had stopped yelling when she returned and stared at her blankly. His expression changed for the flicker of a moment in something like pity and Gemma couldn´t handle that right now.

"I will leave now." Gemma turned on her heels and wished for a second Sherlock would stop her but of course he didn´t and she ran down the stairs out through the front door on the street through the rain. She was soaking wet when she reached her apartment.

Sherlock´s POV

Sherlock stood with Lestrade and Donovan discussing the drug bust and the mysterious woman that had been there when he received the text. He´d to suck in breath that would be an unpleasant conversation he didn´t look forward to. He said his goodbyes and headed out of the police station quickly. When he reached the stairs he immediately saw the sleek black car waiting in front of it and he stopped dead in his tracks. One of Mycroft´s obviously but he didn´t have time to deal with his annoying brother right now. Apparently Mycroft had other plans because he stepped out of the backseat of the car and regarded him with one of his smiles that were always too polite and never reached his eyes. "Sherlock, we need to talk."

Sherlock narrowed his eyebrows what the hell did his brother want now?

"Not now Mycroft. I´m busy." He resumed his way down the stairs and passed Mycroft without looking at him again.

"Oh dear brother I think you´ll be able to make time in your tight schedule for me. Right now!" Sherlock heard two things, a clear order and disappointment. He turned around to face his brother. "Get in the car, Sherlock!"

The car ride was silent both of them angry for different reasons. When they reached Mycroft´s office, Mycroft walking in front Sherlock following and feeling like a school kid ordered to the principal´s office.

"Please have a seat don´t stand around like that, this will take some time." Mycroft told him from the other side of the desk where he´d sat down.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock finally sat down in one of the chairs in front of his brother´s desk pressing his palms together and touching his chin with his fingertips.

Mycroft didn´t answer instead he shoved some pictures over the desk. Sherlock sighed and leaned over to take them. He wasn´t prepared to what was captured on those photographs. His hands started to tremble just the slightest bit but he was sure Mycroft would notice. Gemma and he leaving the alley arms locked. For a moment he was glad that there was no actual surveillance in the alley that would´ve been embarrassing. He was careless in that moment he should have known that Mycroft was following his every step after his unexplained absents two weeks ago.

"Sherlock." Sherlock looked up from the pictures in his hands. "Do you feel the need to explain yourself? I must admit I was slightly confused at first, I didn´t know you were interested in this kind of _activity_ but on the other hand you were always reckless and what did I expect? That you would actually manage to stay out of trouble? No Sherlock, I always assumed you would do something stupid now and then but this?" Mycroft´s hand slammed down on his desk a rare outburst for him of emotion for him that made Sherlock jump in his chair. "THIS SHERLOCK?! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK?!" Mycroft leaned back taking a deep breath to collect himself again. "Or didn´t you think at all?" He snarled. His face had turned into a shade of red and Sherlock thought that the vein on his forehead might explode with the effort to pump all the blood. On any other occasion Sherlock would´ve found it amusing to anger his older brother and make him explode like that but now there was too much at stake.

"Gemma Moriarty. Why her? Do you even have the faintest idea of what this means if anyone finds out?"

Sherlock thought it was a first but he didn´t know what to say. Of course he´d known what it meant but he hadn´t considered someone would find out. And what else should he say? That he genuinely liked Gemma? That he enjoyed her company? It had been stupid to meet her again after their first encounter but for once he hadn´t thought and it was a nice thing. A pleasant thing. While it lasted. And now it was clearly over. Sherlock thought that he regretted it but he wasn´t quite sure what exactly, to meet her, to see her again against better judgments or that it was over without him wanting it to be.

"I will end it." He sighed leaning back in his chair putting his careless mask back on fingertips under his chin.

"Of course you will. That is not the point we´re discussing here." Sherlock felt anger rising in his chest but he forced it down and kept his calm.

"I have a plan for once you ended your _relationship_ with her, she will surly resume her business. I know her and she will most certainly start with you. But we can discuss the finer parts of the plan later." Sherlock rose from his chair Mycroft mirrored his movement and Sherlock turned to show himself out of the office.

"And one other thing Sherlock." Sherlock waited but didn´t bother to turn around again to face his brother. "Try not to screw up like that ever again."

*Title is from the song Snow Ghosts: "And the world was gone"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Funny things, these hearts! You don´t know that you have one until someone breaks it! or Don´t fall for strangers they might end up hurting you

NOTE: Thank your so much for the comment, I didn´t mean to make you cry, nina-hany but this one is probably even more sad…

A mundane thing like a heart? Gemma didn´t know she had one before it broke.

Basically upset Gemma right now but as it turns out upset Gemma prefers to kill instead of cope ;)

She simply stood there. Rain was pouring down on her skin through the already wet layers of her clothes. It seemed appropriate and if she would have been a bit more sentimental it would´ve matched the tears she didn´t shed. The keys to her flat were heavy in her trembling fingers. She must´ve been here in front of the door for over fifteen minutes without moving, her body simply refused to kick back in action. 'Just one more minute,' she thought, 'one more minute before I will pull myself together and be Moriarty again.'

She hadn´t always been Moriarty. She had been Anna or Mary, Smith or Miller. Names no one would think twice about, easily remembered but as easily forgotten, too. At least Gemma was the name her parents gave her when she was born. Her parents had taught her how to hide in plane side how to fight how to kill how to withstand torture but this? They´d never taught her how do deal with feelings. Sentiment was for the weak, her mother used to say. Well, before she got mad and turned herself over to religiousness instead of dealing with reality. Her parents had been terrorists but never out of some kind of misguided faith or believe in a greater cause just for the money. Both had been specialists in their departments and their skills were for sale. Like Gemma´s skillset was for hire even though she did it on a greater scale. But all her abilities didn´t help her now and all that was left for her to do was covering it up and move on.

Smoothly the key slid into the lock. Once inside she dropped her wet clothes in the bathroom stepped under a hot spray of water and finally stopped shivering. When she emerged from the bathroom she looked like herself again; perfect make up with deep red lips. When she stepped outside her flat again to drive to her office she was dressed in an immaculate black suit jacket and skirt and of course sleek black high heels. When she stepped inside of her office she felt like crap but still moved on to sit behind her desk and eventually got to work.

Sherlock stood inside his bedroom and starred at his bed. The sheets and blankets were still an unmade mess but he couldn´t convince himself to clean it up and let the last bit of Gemma´s presence in here fade away. It was sentiment and he remembered Mycroft always told him how caring is a disadvantage. He didn´t just care and he knew that he´d fallen for her the second she´d started the game. It seemed so long ago now. Still it was a miracle how he could´ve been so careless to believe Mycroft wouldn´t find out. On the other hand it was obvious how: hormones tend to cloud your judgment that´d always been a good enough reason not to get involved with someone. Though Gemma wasn´t any_one_, she was a match.

Mycroft had called him half an hour ago. His brother didn´t seem to notice or care that Sherlock liked Gemma when he´d ordered him to see her at her office and tell her in person that it is over. Sherlock knew the reason for this course of action was to make her angry. She´d known the second he´d stepped back inside the apartment that it was over and now she was probably working and the main emotion might just be sadness but his brother´s plan could only step into action if she was furious.

John had stopped yelling at him the second he realized that Sherlock did care about Gemma. When she´d fled the flat Sherlock might have sat down on the couch for a moment his face in his hands and John might had put a hand on his shoulder and had whispered: 'Just so you know I´m still mad but… I´m sorry, Sherlock.' However those things were nothing Sherlock could afford to think about right now he´d to return to business.

It was still raining when Sherlock arrived at Gemma´s office. He could slip inside without being detected Mycroft had told him how to get in and where Gemma´s office was. On the top floor in front of a wooden door Sherlock took one last steadying breath before he pushed down the handle.

"Moran?" Gemma asked without looking up but realized her mistake immediately those hadn´t been Moran´s footsteps and she looked up from the pile of paper only to see him.

Sherlock stood inside her office closing the door behind him.

"How do you even know where I work?" Gemma asked startled before she refocused. "Never mind I don´t even want to know. What do you want, Sherlock?" She sighed heavily leaning back in her chair. Her eyes flickered over the gun that was attached to her desk. But those bloodstains would probably ruin the carpet and she was quite fond of it.

"The blood stains will ruin the carpet." Sherlock stated calmly as if reading her mind and Gemma rolled her eyes.

Near the big windows to Sherlock´s right were two heavy leather chairs and a small table holding a tray with a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. He sat down in one of the chairs and Gemma got up to join him. She poured herself a whiskey not bothering to ask Sherlock if he wanted one, he didn´t anyway.

"Why did you come here? I got the hint, Sherlock. There is no need to talk about it. But I just wondered, there is one thing I would like to ask you. Did you ever consider just for one second to not turn me down? That this between us was … something more?"

"No."

"NO?! That´s all you gonna say?" Gemma felt heat rising in her chest. No, that´s all? Why was he here? To see her break? To humiliate her?

Her fingers tightened around the glass.  
>"Why. Are. You. Here?" She pressed the words through her gritted teeth. She needed to hold her shit together. There was no chance she would break down in front of him.<p>

"I assumed it to be the appropriate way to tell you in person that our acquaintance is over." A moment of complete silence followed Sherlock´s businesslike statement. Gemma hold her breath she couldn´t believe this was actually happening. Sherlock on the other hand tried to breathe even while all he wanted to say was: Come with me!

"Get the hell out of here or I swear Sherlock Holmes I will kill you right now!"

The moment he turned and walked away from her something inside her chest ached, a feeling she had never known flooded her body and all her efforts were focused on holding back tears and sobs until he would finally have left the room. The second the door closed behind the waves of his coat she realized that the pain in her abdomen was caused by her heart breaking in thousand shards. With all the force she had left Gemma threw the Whiskey glass against the closed door. A bitter laugh filled the silence, funny though, she´d always thought she didn´t have a mundane thing like a heart. She couldn´t have been more wrong because it had just been broken and it hurt like hell. Unsteadily she got to her feet stumbling over to the shards of the broken glass. She sank to her knees to pick up the pieces tears had started to cloud her vision. Only managing a huffed laugh through her nose by the irony how she tried to pick up the shards. The thought occurred to her as she picked up a piece and accidentally cut into her fingers that she wouldn´t be able to put this glass back together the same probably applied to the remains of her heart. Her blood and her tears stained the rug. How could she be so stupid? She had wanted to scream in his face that she would have given everything for him. She would have given up everything. Because she didn´t just like him. Because she loved him.

Her disability to deal with the feeling that overwhelmed her body left only one logical solution: To destroy Sherlock Holmes for what he´d done to her.

To burn the heart out of him.

Ironically before they´d sex for the first time she´d told him she would enjoy making him fall. Make him fall seemed not such a bad idea after all, literally.

And after that she would start over somewhere far away from this mess.


	15. Chapter 15

NOTE: First of all I want to thank Ethereal780 for the nice and encouraging comment! I´ve been on holidays for two weeks and it was really great to read such a comment when coming back! Thank you very much! As I said I´ve been on vacation and apologize for the long wait. In addition I´ve kind of crisis, had the plot in mind for such a long time that I´m not sure anymore how to go on…The most of the next part is already written but I think I will edit it again, that´s why this one is a little short, sorry!

I thought about some background story for Gemma and Moran! It´s from Moran´s perspective to get a view on Gemma´s personality from a different angle. And we will shortly arrive at the Reichenbach Fall, yeah, and you all know how that ends ;) I didn´t thought I would get that far. So hope you enjoy!

Chapter 15:

Moran found Gemma on the floor of her office with a bleeding hand, shards all over the floor. He tried to remember when he´d last seen her like this, drenched in tears a sobbing mess on the floor. It had been a few years back, they´d both been CIA at the time and Gemma´s father had died or more precise had been killed. With teary eyes she stared into the far distance.

"What did he do to me, Moran?" She whispered without looking at him.

"It seems like he did something I thought impossible, he broke your heart."

Moran kneeled down next to her slipped an arm around her shivering body and picked her up. He made her sit down on one of the leather chairs and left to get medical supplies to take care of her hand. With gentle fingers he pried the shard from her clenched fist.

Carefully he cleaned the wound and wrapped some band aid around it. Without a word he handed her a handkerchief before pulling the other chair around to face her. He poured her another glass of whiskey made her drink a few sips before placing it back on the table.

"You always said I don´t have one." She watched him with big eyes. At that moment she reminded him of a helpless lost child.

"What?" He asked.

"A heart. You always said I don´t have one." She repeated carefully.

He was tempted to touch her or hug her but she wouldn´t appreciate that. Moran thought hard if he had ever seen her heart-broken in all those years but she had never even been anything close to "in love". Even if Moran had wished for it a few years back, she´d never been in love with him; well they hadn´t practically been together at all.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell happened, Gemma?"

Moran had met Anna Smith at the CIA. He´d been assigned to be her handler while she was still in training. Her personal data sheet said she was 26 but that wasn´t the truth as Moran found out quickly enough. She had been 17 when she joined the agency together with her sister Jasmine Smith. Her sister was the best but Anna was outstanding. Some agents said she was brilliant and not just in one or two things in almost everything Moran should consider himself lucky to be assigned to someone with such potential. He found her pretentious, annoying and most of all reckless.

While she had been still in training she was assigned to her first mission with Moran and he´d to find out that there was one thing she wasn´t as good in as her sister. They were in Mexico; the target was the boss of a terrorist group planning their next attack in Mexico. She had been supposed to shoot the target with a sniper rifle from a safe distance Moran as her spotter and she had missed. They had tried to run but got captured and taken to a house for interrogation. They took her first and after two hours they returned her to the room where they were hold. The men had tortured her but the stoic expression on her face right before they threw her back in the room told him she didn´t say a word. When they returned for him she stood up and said:

"You better take me because if you dare to touch him you will regret it."

Her hands had been cuffed behind her back like his own. Moran couldn´t believe her, she was just a rooky and had already been tortured for two hours why would she stand up for him?

The two men both tall and broad laughed exchanged looks laughed again and entered the room and Moran had never seen two men go down so quickly. She fought just with her legs and kicked them unconscious in less than two minutes even though she was injured. They escaped eventually. Moran had looked at her and had asked her who the hell she was but she´d only smirked.

A few weeks later Anna had cornered him in a hall. "I know you´re a rouge agent. You spy for the North Koreans. I obviously don´t care but I want to make sure of your loyalty towards me. I need someone I can trust. That´s a first for me so do not screw up, Moran." And with that he had become the one person she trusted and he had never left her side since.

He´d learned her real name on a different occasion when they were drunk. He´d learned about her parents when they got captured by a terrorist group that had connections to her family. He had learned not to trust her sister. He had learned that she was indeed a perfect close combat fighter when the martial arts trainer had decided she needed to learn a lesson. She´d refused to fight simply ducking all of his attacks until he started to insult her unstable sister. She kicked his ass and broke his arm. And he had learned that Gemma was indeed fragile underneath all those layers.

He knew she made a mistake when she had decided to get involved with Sherlock Holmes and he had although known that it was he who would have to pick up the pieces but he didn´t care. Though he had to admit that he was surprised by the intensity of how the whole thing was affecting Gemma. Of course he knew a big part of her anger rooted in the fact that Sherlock had dumped her. She hadn´t been the one to make the call and she was certainly not used to be on the receiving end.

"I have a new assignment to work on." She sniffed.

"And what is that?"

"To destroy Sherlock Holmes. He should have known better than to humiliate me."

Moran sighed but of course he was in. He had learned by now to deal with her kind of crazy.

"Just for good measures, Gemma: I told you so." Gemma rolled her eyes. "But just out of curiosity what made him change his mind?"

"His brother."

(MS MR – Hurricane)

The plan was easily constructed in no time. Gemma had every detail carefully planned out till the end. Moran didn´t like the end of the plan but Gemma had made it clear that she wanted to leave her life behind and start over. No she needed to change her identity and try something new. She´d done so several times in her life for different reasons but this was the first time she wanted to do so. However the plan was dangerous especially faking a suicide like that; a lot could go wrong. Moran was worried but in the end Gemma´s plans rarely failed.

John had been furious at first. He had refused to talk to Sherlock at all but now he felt sorry for him. Sherlock´s behavior was worse than ever and it was a challenge to stay close to him without killing him. On the other hand Sherlock was more productive than ever he solved one case after another and got more popular in the process. After some time John thought that he was over Moriarty but there was something he couldn´t quite put a finger on.


	16. Chapter 16

NOTE: Yeah new followers! Welcome! The new chapter was really difficult to write… I wanted to stay close to the original storyline but I couldn´t decide how to move on. I didn´t write every detail out, because I guessed you all now storyline quite well I used the Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan and hope I didn´t forget something important of the conversation after the trial. I´m not really satisfied but I didn´t want to keep you waiting so long again. So I hope you like it. By the way I would love some fanart for this story, if anyone feels obliged…

Chapter 16: And this is how the story goes

_Locked Rooms_

Gemma stood in front of the Jewel House of the Tower of London in a row of tourists. Step one of her plan ready to be set in motion. She put the headphones of her phone in her ears shortly before she entered the building. The music started playing full and loud in her ears. She´d picked _La Gazza Ladra_ which she personally thought was hilarious for the occasion. It was all so easy. After she had written the words _Get Sherlock_ she smiled her wicked smile towards the camera just for Sherlock to see later. The bank vaults were unlocked, every cell door in the prison had opened and Gemma sat on a throne with the crown jewels. She found it quite appropriate. When the police stormed in Gemma was kind of giddy this would be so much fun.

_The court / Sinner*_

Sherlock gave his testimony explaining who Gemma Moriarty was. A criminal mastermind a spider in a web. She raised an eyebrow at him and he could practically hear her in his mind: 'Seriously? A spider? Nothing better?' Sherlock could barely stand to look at her. With her hands cuffed behind her back his train of thoughts got distracted over and over again. Gemma seemed to read his mind because she gave him that seductive look of hers through her dark lashes and he had to physically shake his head to clear his mind. John had told him before oz to be clever but he had to distract himself and couldn´t be bothered to pay attention to the rules of society. Showing off in a court proved to be not good at all. So he ended up in a prison cell next to Gemma. He could hear her giggle.

"Psst, Sherlock, do you think it was necessary? Showing off like that to impress me?

"I didn´t show off." Sherlock stated calmly staring at the wall.

"Oh yes you did, honey."

"It´s not my fault that people can´t see the obvious. And I certainly have no desire to impress you." His voice was even when he spoke but Gemma could hear the hidden emotions underneath.

"Mmh. I see, John was there, too. Wasn´t he? Maybe you just want to impress him? He was soooo disappointed." Sherlock simply stayed quiet there was no need to talk to her anymore.

"Just by the way, Sherlock: the looks you gave me in court? Do you think no one notices? Those looks that say: I will rip of your clothes and fuck you right here? That´s quite distracting and I think people notice. You should stop that." She laughed again and Sherlock stood in his cell stoically refusing to answer.

(*Nina Simone – Sinnerman)

_I owe you more than just a fall_

When he finally went home he already knew how the trial would end. After John had called and told him that Gemma Moriarty had been found not guilty he knew she would come over to rub it in his face so he got up got dressed and prepared tea.

He stood in the middle of the living room and his heart was pounding too loud in his ears. To distract himself he strode to his chair and grabbed his violin. He played Bach to calm himself until he heard a creak from the stairs and stopped. There were no further steps to be heard until Sherlock resumed to play.

When Gemma entered her presence filled the room. Sherlock could keep telling himself that it was only about the sex but the way his chest clenched when he laid eyes on her, the way his finger itched to just touch her… even he knew that it was about more than the exchange of bodily fluids. Today she was dressed in a beige suit with pants instead of a skirt. The trousers hugged her hips and fell loose down to her brown high heels. Sherlock´s gaze lingered on the trousers for a moment and he decided he liked skirts better on her.

Sherlock watched her for a moment: "Most people knock. But then you're not most people, I suppose."

"Johann Sebastian would be appalled." She turned around looking for a place to sit.

"May I?"

"Please." Sherlock appreciated the distance in Gemma´s demeanor. He offered her John´s chair but she ignored him to sit on Sherlock´s.

"You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end ..."

"... and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it." Sherlock finished her sentences.

"Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody."

"Neither can you. That's why you've come."

"Indeed we have unfinished business. Oh Sherlock come on! You are a tiny bit pleased."

"With the verdict?" He asked incredulously taking his cup of tea after pouring both of them a cup.

"With me back on the streets, of course! Would have been so boring without me. Only the ordinary people to play with. No fancy crimes." She made a sympathetic face.

"And no more sex for you… It seemed like you have grown fond of it lately." She leaned forward with a dangerous glint in her eyes and grabbed an appel from the table. Sherlock leaned further back when she pulled a small knife from her pocket. Right now he started to regret his decision to ever get acquainted with someone as twisted as her. Of course he knew most of the trouble she was going to cause was because he pushed her into doing so. Inwardly he cursed himself for still feeling something for her but he was unable to shut those feelings out of his mind-palace. Whenever he´d tried to shut her out the mental picture of her just laughed at him. He´d shut her away in a cell deep inside his mind-palace chained up but he couldn´t help to enter it over and over again. Every single time he tried to erase everything connected with her: The feelings, the way she smelt, the way she walked, smiled and the sex. Yet he was unable to succeed and the mental surrogate of her told him that he was lost indefinitely lost since the first moment he´d touched her.

"I will survive." Was his sarcastic reply.

"Certainly you will but how dull life will be? You need me! Without me you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I; except you're boring what you proved really well." Her lips twitched and her brows furrowed. "You're on the side of the angels. Should´ve at least considered to try my side." Disappointment was obvious in her voice.

Sherlock chose to ignore her comment and started to ask more urgent questions: "Got to the jury, of course."

Gemma laughed humorless: "I got into the Tower of London; you think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?

„Cable network." Sherlock realized with a sudden unsettling feeling in his stomach exactly how dangerous she was. He knew she was a criminal but a criminal who just walked out of a courtroom without even trying to defend herself. In comparison she was at least as dangerous and powerful as Mycroft. Except she was unpredictable in her actions

„Easy, really." She sighed with a bored expression. "Nevertheless I suggest you know why I did it?"

"Of course."

Gemma raised an eyebrow cutting into the apple and eating the slice she carved out.

"Go ahead then."

"What? Shall I tell you what you already know?"

"Prove that you aren´t ordinary." She loved to provoke him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, why did she have to be so annoying?

"You didn't take anything because you don't need to. You'll never need to take anything ever again."

"You are quite right. Because?" She urged him to continue slowly leaning back in his armchair again eating another slice of the appel.

"Because nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three." Gemma pushed her knife into the appel and put both aside.

"I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank accounts now. They're all mine. No such thing as secrecy. I _own_ secrecy. Nuclear codes: I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king; and honey, you should see me in a crown."

"You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do."

"And you were helping. Big client list: rogue governments, intelligence communities ... terrorist cells. They all want me. You see I wasn´t idle at all. Now I´m Mrs. Sex." She winked at him.

"Let´s move on from the obvious stuff to the more interesting matters: The final problem. Our problem in fact." She drummed an idle rhythm with her fingertips on her knee.

"What? You are going to burn me? Because I hurt your feelings?" Sherlock drawled seeming extremely bored just to annoy her. "That´s a pretty ordinary reaction, don´t you think? A bit too mundane for you?"

"Oh that is rich, Sherlock! You should´ve known that I wouldn´t let it go just like that. But then of course you knew. And it won´t be mundane, Honey! Not at all. It will start very soon. I owe you a fall. But don´t be afraid! Falling is just like flying, except there is a more permanent destination." Gemma snapped setting her cup back on the table far too loud.

"I never liked riddles." Sherlock shrugged careless.

"Oh you will learn to, Honey!"

Sherlock stood abruptly Gemma mirrored his movement and turned to leave but Sherlock grabbed her arm spinning her around.

"Sherlock!" Gemma´s eyes widened. Briefly she considered to break his arm, she didn´t like him looming over her.

"You´ve had your fun, Gemma. Let it go." The urgency in his voice startled her.

"Never." They locked eyes and Sherlock leaned slowly down.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" His voice was soft now his breath ghosting over her face.

"Don´t…" Gemma tried to turn her head but Sherlock grabbed a fistful of her hair and held her in place. "Don´t, Sherlock!" Vaguely she remembered that she should push him away but her hands rested useless on his chest. His lips were so close she needed to get out right now or it would be too late. They both knew how the story would end. There was no fairy-tale ending for them no happy-ever-after but right now there was at least the promise of relieve. And Gemma stopped resisting their lips met in an urgent kiss that lasted until they were both breathless. But this was not the way it was supposed to be going, she remembered herself. She wouldn´t let him push her around again and with her flat hands pushed him against the nearest wall.

"Oh Sherlock, you might think me weak because I´ve let you fuck me." Her hands fisted in his shirt and she pushed him into the wall again. "But you´re wrong, of course you are. You want me, too. You can tell yourself you have the upper hand in this little game, that you are the one controlling it…" She let her right hand travel down over his stomach her eyes fixed on Sherlock´s. Slowly she turned her wrist around and pushed her hand into his pants. Sherlock gasped at the touch. Expertly she fisted his cock and gave it a light squeeze. "Honey, I think you are wrong." A wicked smile curled her lips slowly she removed her hand and replaced the pressure with the length of her body. She could feel his arousal against her belly. She leaned in and kissed his jaw line.

"Tell me Sherlock, what do you want?"

Sherlock could smell her perfume lying over the clean sense of her hair and skin. It was intoxicating to him but he refused to answer her question. She smiled kissing her way down his neck and licked a wet stripe up again over his pulse. Sherlock shuddered and groaned. Gemma´s hands wandered under his purple shirt touching his waistline and moving up to roam over his chest.

"Oh come on, Sherlock. What. Do. You. Want?"

"You." He whispered closing his eyes. There was a long pause and silence fell before Gemma had gained enough control over her voice to make it sound light:

"You should have considered this sooner, don´t you think? It´s a bit too late for that now. I hate to admit this but you hurt my feelings and I don´t react well to that kind of stuff." Gemma pulled her arm up and pushed it against Sherlock´s throat. Her anger changed her features and her voice was low and threatening: "First you make me fall for you and then you dump me like it meant nothing. It´s ridiculous really because right now you wouldn´t mind to fuck me again, would you?! No, you certainly would kick me out right after; in the end you wouldn´t care…! It´s good that I had a plan for you before this unfortunate incident got me distracted. And I had a lot of time to think about how to destroy you the best. You _will_ pay Sherlock! You _will_ suffer! I. Owe. You. A. Fall."

And she left him standing with his back against the wall.

After she left Sherlock didn´t know what he felt anymore except for the unsettling feeling in his stomach. He turned back towards the table and saw the apple. With careful finger he picked it up holding it by the knife. Gemma had carved something into it and Sherlock slowly turned the apple to read: "I owe u". He couldn´t help but role his eyes, she was always so over the top dramatic. Exactly like the "Get Sherlock" on the security glass in the crown jewel´s fault. He would have to be careful she was planning something big and he needed to plan against the possible threads coming his way though she´d given him a good impression of what she might be planning.

A fall.


	17. Chapter 17

NOTE: Here we go again, next chapter. I´m so excited! I made up my mind and decided to stick with the original story I partly wrote already. Sherlock and Gemma will hate each other a little more… But some smut is about to happen and it might be a little bit non-con-ish ;) I hope you like it!

Chapter 17:

Close your eyes and kiss me and tell me that you love me

I know it´s not true but I don´t feel the difference

When you abandon yourself to me*

The Game is on

Gemma Moriarty personally thought that this was her neatest plan. Perfectly composed like a piece from a play. Everyone play their roles like they are supposed to, every detail in place and the outcome… Yeah, the end set from the beginning. There would be just one way this play was going to end. Composing it had been the most fun she´d in years. It would be a play everyone would just _love_ to watch. It was going to be thrilling till the very end. Of course the end would be her end too, at least as Gemma Moriarty. The new passport was already in her drawer lying there with hair dye and money. A new identity waiting for her along with a job.

Sherlock would love the case she created just for him. Gemma had been so patient, she was a patient person but now it was time to step on the stage yet again. She´d calculated that Sherlock would assume parts of the play but the end would come as a surprise. As he liked to say: The game was on.

The other new identity she´d created for this was Ricarda Brooke. It was concerning how easy it was to create her. She would step out on the stage very soon and people would willingly believe her story, ordinary people could be played so easily.

Sherlock´s end was daring near and she hoped his end meant the end of her mundane feelings for him as well. She hated the weakness he´d created in her and she _needed_ to carve it out of her.

Oh Sherlock played along so nicely when the abduction case came his way but not just him all those ordinary people who actually thought there was such a thing as a universal computer code to open every door played their roles just as well.

The first act was over the curtains were closing and it was time for an interlude. Gemma was playing a cabbie, to stay with the metaphor, what would a play be without some dressing up?

She sat in the cab outside Scotland Yard waiting for Sherlock to leave the building all disturbed and pale wondering what had just happened. Why the little girl had screamed when she´d seen him. It´d been so easy to find an actor who bore enough resemblance to the consulting detective to make someone who wasn´t close to him believe it was actually him. Sadly the poor chap had to die after his role had been played.

Aaaand entrance Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective and his pet John Watson, former soldier.

Gemma kicked into motion stopping the cab as Sherlock raised his arm as supposed he left John behind and got into the cab. By now he should really be more careful about cabs and especially cabbies, Gemma thought.

The video she´d made for Sherlock started to give him an idea of what´s going to come. She watched him in the rearview mirror while driving the cab. She had to admit seeing his facial expression was priceless. Moran had suggested he should drive the cab because of the obvious danger but it´d paid out to do it herself, the look of horror and realization on Sherlock´s face was sooo satisfying. Sherlock started to shout to stop the car and Gemma obliged. She was a good cabbie. But that moment he caught her eye in the rearview mirror. That was not according to plan! He should have gotten out and she should have given him a mocking comment before driving off. Instead Sherlock leaped forward and before Gemma could get out of the car he grabbed a fistful of her hair. Her slide cap fell from her head. Forceful he pulled her back into her seat. Gemma cried out in pain. Involuntary her hand flew up to his fist in her hair but it was no point he only grabbed her tighter. His lips were close to her ear now and she couldn´t help the shiver that rushed through her body. When he spoke she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"That´s your game now?" He whispered through gritted teeth and she could feel the anger evaporating from him. "Destroying me by destroying my reputation? Not very inventive for you."

With her head pulled back it was hard to speak her voice sounded raspy.

"Nah, you enjoyed the case I created to you most inventive thing that came your way since a long time. Took you longer than I estimated to solve it. Had to sit in this cab for quite a long time."

"STOP IT!" Sherlock screamed in her face shaking with fury now. He leaned around the seat awkwardly and his free hand closed around her throat. Gemma had to cough and it took everything to keep her calm. Her fingers still held Sherlock´s fist in her hair and she dug her nails in his skin. Taken by surprise he loosened the grip and Gemma pulled free loosing strands of her hair. With one swift movement she freed herself from the hand on her neck turning her whole body in the process her back pushing against the steering wheel. She felt like a mouse in the corner and like that she fought. With her right leg she delivered one well-placed kick against Sherlock´s shoulder. The horn honked in the motion and Sherlock flew back against the back-seats. Gemma had no time to watch him grunt in pain quickly she reached for the door and stumbled out of the taxi still coughing. Her eyes scanned the street which was dark and empty and decided she had to run luckily she wore Sneakers. Before she could start to run Sherlock had grabbed the collar of her black jacket. How the hell did he get out of the car so quickly? He threw her against the car and all air left her lungs with the impact.

"Beating up a helpless woman?" She tried to sound cocky but it sounded rough. She tried to remain standing but Sherlock was onto her in no time. The punch he delivered this time into her stomach made her double over. She sunk to her knees barely able to hold prevent herself from falling with her face to the ground. Her hands on the concrete she had to dry heave and cough even harder.

"A woman?" Sherlock´s voice was icy. "You are not even human."

Gemma had to laugh without any humor.

"Oh deary, you are so angry because you´d never entertained the possibility that your friends could or would turn against you but it was sooo easy. Just one tiny incident and they´ll never look upon you the same way."

She wanted to get up from the ground but a kick sent her to the ground. He´d actually kicked her in the side. Sherlock´s breath was heavy and Gemma grunted with the effort to get away from him far enough to get to her feet again.

"Why don´t you fight!?" He roared anger seeping from his voice.

'That was the point!' It occurred to him this had just became part of her plan. But this time he didn´t care he wanted her to _feel_ his pain. He reached down and grabbed her hair again pulling her up. Her hands scrambled to get rid of his, her nails dug into his skin again but not this time! This time he held on. If she didn´t want to fight that was fine with him. He pressed her against the car trapping her body in between the metal and his own body. There was plenty of time to feel bad about this later.

His fist pulled her hair and she had to move her head with it exposing her neck. When he leaned down Gemma realized what he was up to. His teeth dug deep into her skin and she might have screamed if Sherlock´s free hand hadn´t just covered her mouth to stifle it. For a moment she regretted wearing that short skirt.

Gemma had been on a high since her little play had started and she knew perfectly well that she wasn´t any different from Sherlock when it came to this. They both craved distraction from the boring conformity that was life itself. Sherlock used the cases or drugs, Gemma used crimes. They were not so different after all. Right now they both were on the good side for different reasons but still. Even though Sherlock was angry he had just solved a case, a really good one. And now only the idea of sex let Gemma´s heart beat faster, not ordinary sex, no extraordinary one. She had never really cared for physical encounters but with Sherlock it was something entirely different. Right now he wanted to hurt her but he could possibly be convinced that this would be more fun. Oh god she was twisted! Especially now that Sherlock would probably fuck her with or without her consent if he wanted a victim she would gladly play one for him, only for him. Ever so slowly she let her hands sink stopping every attempt to defend herself. This made Sherlock only more irate. His hands grabbed her lapels and pushed her on the backseat. Her lack of defense startled him but didn´t stop him. He climbed onto her pushing her skirt up in the process. His fingers fumbled for his zipper and Gemma started a weak attempt to get up again only to be pushed back down. His labored breath ghosted over her face and she shivered in anticipation only hoping no one would interrupt them.

But just before it happened Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks.

"No. No I´m not like you." He wanted to get away from her. Processing the thought that he´d been just about to rape her made him want to vomit. Gemma´s eyes widened. 'Nononono! You´re not stopping now!' She thought desperation washing over her. No, she needed this right now! The last time she´d seen him she´d left without letting him get to her she´d been on edge for weeks. She craved him like a drug. A smug smile appeared on her face as she reached for his coat and pulled him back down. Sherlock realized only then that she´d just played the helpless girl, of course she´d. She was capable of killing people with those hands that were tangled in his hair right now.

"Oh god you are twisted." He murmured before he kissed her roughly. Gemma wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed him inside her in one swift movement.

"Yeah…but you love it." She whispered as she pulled him even closer.

This was not about love. This was about relieve, about satisfaction, about power, about a fix both of them craved. It was neither gentle nor careful. Gemma moaned shameless into his ear. His hips moved hard against her own in a far too quick rhythm; none of them would last long. Actually this was a perfect scene for her play, people loved some sex.

Gemma threw her had back against the door and hit it hard but came nonetheless screaming Sherlock´s name. When Sherlock came inside of her he gritted his teeth to prevent her name from spilling from his traitorous mouth. It was the first time it occurred to her that he never once had used protection, how careless, if she could still get pregnant he would be screwed.

They lay in the car for a moment just breathing heavily and Sherlock stroke a strand of her hair from her forehead. 'Oh don´t show me you care! You idiot!' She thought bemused by his action. Sadly she realized this had probably been the last time they would be together ever. Her thoughts were distracted by Sherlock´s sudden movement. The detective got up and fixed his clothes quickly before leaving the criminal alone in the backseat of the cab.

Gemma raised her eyebrows in disappointment: 'This is how we´re doing things now? Well, you won´t have much time left to regret it anyway.' She sighed and climbed back in the front seat. Right now she felt content. Her eyes fell on the mirror and she saw her injured neck and her slightly bleeding lip from where Sherlock had bit her. Her whole abdomen hurt like hell from the punch and the kick. Moran would be so disappointed, she smiled to herself.

*This is actually a german song, sry for that but it fitted so well: Die Ärzte – Mach die Augen zu, the lyrics are great for this scene so if you want to check them out


	18. Chapter 18

NOTE: So quicker update than usually. I´m kind of obsessed with Maroon5 right now so I´m sry I always wondered if Moriarty and Kitty Riley were actually _together_ when Moriarty was Rich Brooke? Nevertheless: Hope you like it!

Chapter 18: It´s becoming harder and harder to breath

How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable  
>So condescending unnecessarily critical<br>I have the tendency of getting very physical  
>So watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle<p>

Does it kill  
>Does it burn<br>Is it painful to learn  
>That it's me that has all the control<p>

Does it thrill  
>Does it sting<br>When you feel what I bring  
>And you wish that you had me to hold*<p>

The reporter

It was late and Gemma was beaten up and filthy. Actually perfect for the next scene of her play. She had already abandoned the cab and was on her way back to that stupid Kitty Riley person whom she had sold the story about her _real_ identity. It was so easy. A bit too easy Gemma noted with a slight disappointment but when she reached the flat of Kitty she saw Sherlock and John inside through the window. What the hell were they doing here? That was not supposed to happen! She´d intended to show Kitty her wounds and tell her Sherlock had just raped her, a bit more drama for the newspaper. And now? Now he was here? On the other hand that could be even better… Her lips curled into a wicked smile and she headed for the door ruffling her hair a bit more in the process.

The three people in the room heard the echo of footsteps in the hallway and Kitty´s eyes darted to the door. She hoped it wouldn´t be Ricarda. Concern furrowed her brows. The door was pushed open and a small frail girl stumbled into the flat she stopped at the balustrade of the small stairwell and leaned heavily against it raising her head only then to see the people in the room. In a split second her face turned into a mask of pure horror. Her dark eyes widened and started to glister with tears as she saw Sherlock.

"What is _he_ doing here?! You said I would be safe here!" She exclaimed a wary expression on her face. Sherlock would like to punch her right now. Why was she here? Why did he have to see her twice in one night? Wasn´t the regret he felt enough? He was disgusted with himself he couldn´t believe what he was capable of. Maybe she was right and there was in fact no difference between them. Sherlock decided to push that thought far away he could deal with his guilt later.

Kitty jumped between her and the two men: "What happened? Ricarda what happened to you?" She grabbed her shoulders and shook her. John was irritated by the way Moriarty looked, her knees were bloody like her neck, she looked pretty beaten up.

"This is your source?! Moriarty?"

"There is no Moriarty! That is Ricarda Brooke, she´s an actress hired by you!" She pointed an accusing finger at Sherlock and turned back to John. "He invented Moriarty, a nemesis and all the crimes, actually."

"No! No that is Moriarty!" John shouted agitated he looked at Gemma and continued: "We´ve met, remember? First time you tried to blow me up!"

Gemma´s eyes widened even more and tears fell from her lashes as she spoke with a cracked voice: "Dr. Watson I´m so sorry! You are a good man, please believe me." Desperation made her voice crack and she sobbed heavily before she could speak again: "He made me do it. I´m just an actress and I needed the money! You were never in real danger! I´m so sorry!" She buried her face in her hands.

John was stunned he couldn´t think of anything to say. He´d met Gemma Moriarty twice and once she was naked in Sherlock´s bedroom. Could it be? But that was Sherlock! No it was impossible and yet a small nagging doubt settled in the back of his mind. John turned around to face Sherlock who was still standing behind him with a stoic expression.

"Sherlock… You better explain this, because I´m not getting it!"

"Oh I will… I will do the explaining in print. I´ve conclusive proof! Everything is an invention, everything set up by Mr. Holmes!"

Gemma spoke through her hands that still covered her face and her voice was muffled: "I have proof, I´m the storyteller, I´m on kid´s TV. Just show him the DVDs!"

Kitty turned around to face Gemma: "What happened to you?" Her voice was soft and compassionate. Gemma´s hands sank from her tear-stained face and she whispered: "Him." And her trembling finger pointed at Sherlock.

John´s eyes narrowed and his gaze followed Moriarty´s finger to Sherlock and an unsettling feeling settled in his stomach. He raised a suggestive eyebrow at Sherlock who just rolled his eyes. Great, they had definitely been together this night but what did Sherlock do to her? John didn´t want to imagine what happened but he remembered something else. The scars. All those scars that´d covered Moriarty´s body; they were real and told a whole different story of who she was. John knew too much about torture those scars were conclusive proof enough for him to believe in Sherlock. He took a small stepper closer to his friend.

Kitty was furious now and she took a closer step towards the two men: "What did you do to her?"

Sherlock exhaled and his eyes met Gemma´s for a brief moment before she dropped her gaze to the floor. Something flickered over her face only for Sherlock to see. That was so not her but he´d to admit she wore the disguise perfectly. Ricarda Brooke? Was she kidding him? His anger flared up again. It would end now! He would force her to admit that´s it all a stupid lie. Swiftly he rounded John and Kitty starting to shout:

"Stop it! Stop it NOW!"

Gemma flinched backing away stumbling up the stairs: "No! Get away from me! Haven´t you hurt me enough?" Her voice trembled and more tears rolled over her cheeks. "Don´t you touch me! Don´t you lay a finger on me! Ever Again!"

There was a lot of commotion, Sherlock running up the short fly of stairs after Gemma, John shouted "Don´t let her get away!" and Kitty screamed after Sherlock "Leave her alone!"

Gemma turned around running towards the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. The window opened easily so she could climb through it. She heard Sherlock shout and had to laugh out loud, wow this had been fun. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins that had been the best night but it wasn´t over yet. She´d pushed a small paper in Kitty´s hand and if everything went according to plan there was just a little bit more to come to make this night a perfect one. So she stayed in the shadows and waited.

Sherlock left John he knew Gemma was close and he would only have to turn around a few corners to find her. But he didn´t even have to look she stepped out of the shadows as soon as John had left.

"What do you think?" She spread her arms wide. "I did an incredible job here, should´ve considered the acting career sooner." That crooked smile again.

Gemma knew she´d only about one more minute before Kitty would see her and she couldn´t risk her to grow a suspicion.

"You are really angry. That´s good, you should be." She mused cocking her head to the side. Sherlock clenched and unclenched his fists at his side if he would take one step closer he would end up screwing her. Again. Though he was more than angry he was desperate. He had just realized how this was supposed to end for him. It felt like he was a character in a play.

He didn´t have to take the step she did it for him. "So Sherlock do you still want me?" She balanced on the tips of her feet to reach his lips with hers. "Or are you obeying your brother´s orders?" He could feel the touch of her breath on his lips. He drew in a shaky breath he couldn´t believe himself but he still wanted her. He had never wanted something in his life so bad, it was worse than craving a drug. And Sherlock heard the camera clicking. Gemma laughed lightly before she turned around and disappeared into the shadows once again. A set up, Sherlock already saw the article in the newspapers and heard Mycroft´s angry voice in his ears.

It took Gemma all her self-restraint to not kiss him and when she´d turned away from him she´d to run until she was out of breath otherwise she would have turned back. At least the plan will work out just fine. The last act was so close now. Curtains would fall like people. The audience would be so pleased – a tragic ending was always most appealing. Gemma laughed to herself a tragic ending seemed the only adequate one to her own twisted _love-story_. Nothing else would do wouldn´t it?

When Sherlock woke up the next morning he could already hear Mycroft and John arguing in the living-room. He had turned to sleep that night just for the sake of not thinking for a while. But his dreams were haunted by soft lips curled into a crooked smile. He heard footsteps one the wooden floor towards his room and then the door flew open. A newspaper or a paper that called itself newspaper was tossed at him. Mycroft stood at his bed a calm mask covering his face but underneath he was furious. John followed and Sherlock could barely stand the look of pity on his face.

"Do you care to explain this?" Mycroft spat.

Sherlock didn´t care but he still answered: "It was a set-up, Mycroft."

"Are you sure? Doesn´t look like a set-up."

"It doesn´t matter, Mycroft." Without another word Mycroft turned and left.

Sherlock sat on his bed and he could feel with every fiber of his body that the end to the game was close and it would probably be the last time he would sit in this bed. He looked up at John and his eyes were tired and he hoped no he prayed it wouldn´t be the last time he saw John´s face.

* Maroon 5 – Harder to breath


	19. Chapter 18a

NOTE: Just some random thoughts of Gemma´s in the night before the fall.

Chapter 18a:

Interlude

A pull, ya maybe it was kind of a pull in her chest or an ache, ya an ache sounded more adequate, it hurt like hell. How should she know how to deal with this kind of emotion or even describe it? All she´d ever learnt was to manipulate, to harm and to kill people, not how to care or love for that matter. It hurt, it was painful and not the kind of pain she could simply ignore. All she wanted was the pain to end.

The only option to end her suffering was to end Sherlock.

The darkness of her flat was welcoming after the rough night and sleep was not required until all of that would be over. Careless she dropped her clothes on the way to the bathroom. A hot shower to get rid of the last remainings of the night that stuck on her body seemed like a brilliant idea. Last time in her favorite flat. Did she get sentimental lately?

Under the hot spray her muscles began slowly to relax. Her eyes wandered over her body her ribs and her stomach, the skin there started to form purple and violet bruises. Those would stick for some time a last reminder of Sherlock after he would be gone. Her fingers slid carefully over the outlines of her ribs one by one to make sure none was broken. Slowly her thumb glided over an especially painful spot beneath her fourth rib and against better judgment her whole body tingled with anticipation. She let her other hand slip down between her legs a heavy sigh tumbled from her lips. Just the memory of him fucking her in the cab… Between pleasure and pain her mind became foggy and her eyes fell close. Ya she would definitely miss him. No one before managed to make her come like he did. Rarely had she enjoyed sex before him. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip and her head fell back when she came with a low groan thinking of his eyes on her.

Caring was indeed a disadvantage, the iceman was right. She sighed. It had at least proven to her that she was a human being. Always nice to know that you still belong here. Even though there is not much more that connects her to other beings.

Broken heart. Broken heart. Broken heart. She heard those words in her mind over and over again, she´d heard Doctor Watson say them to Sherlock. Pah she was not the one with a broken heart, she was just… yeah what again? How ordinary, how mundane, no those things didn´t belong in her world. She was cold and rational and so much like Sherlock without the moral, but in the end Sherlock´s moral was questionable, too.

It would all be over soon. No more suffering. No more pull, no more aching in her chest. No more spilled tears.

'Where was Moran? Wasn´t he supposed to be here by now?' She was fully dressed by now; make up applied, hair dried.

'The door, there he is.'

"Gemma?"

'Oh no, why does he have to switch the lights on?

Why does he look so sad? I won´t die for real.

Oh god no, he is not about to hug…?

Oh okay is hugging a thing between us now?

Don´t look at me like that I don´t need to be pampered.

Well at least I have one friend, oh just like Sherlock, is there anything I don´t compare?

Stop occupying my mind!

Fuck, where is this fucking coat?'

"I need to find my coat." Gemma started toward the bedroom but came back a moment later to search the living room.

"One should think that someone like you would be a bit more organized." The humor in Moran´s voice was obvious and Gemma turned towards him. Her coat rested over his arm.

"I prefer the organized chaos." She stated dryly while walking over to where Moran stood close to the door. He helped her in the garment. Gemma winced when she had to move her arms up. She shouldn´t have abused her bruises in the shower…

"Ready?"

"Always ready. Let´s get this over with."

Gemma turned her head and let her gaze run over her flat one last time, she wouldn´t see it for a long time.

'This is goodbye.'


	20. Chapter 19

NOTE: Welcome to the final act! No not really, the story will continue, of course! I´m really excited now, finally! This is like I said earlier the way I had it in mind in the first place, so I hope you enjoy it! Next chapter is almost ready Oh and I realized I made a mistake in chapter 18, the time-line is incorrect, I´m sorry maybe I will have time to fix that later, somehow.

Chapter 19: The final act

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind  
>So dark and foul I can't disguise<br>Can't disguise  
>Nights like this<br>I become afraid  
>Of the darkness in my heart*<p>

Staying alive blurted from her phone speakers. She was waiting for him. This was it. The final act. And she felt … Nothing, nothing at all. She´d thought she would at least be a bit sad but honestly she was kind of relieved. The constant emotional distress had made her weak; an easy target and now there were several threats that needed to be dealt with. People are so simply constructed one weakness occurs and they try to take you down. Gemma regretted to reveal her identity it made several business acquaintances difficult. It was time to disappear and let Moran pull the strings from London while she would go back to manage from the back-seat. Already bored again she hit the same song again on her phone; she´d beaten the great Sherlock Holmes! What else could she possibly do now? Maybe she should kill herself for real, did it matter? Her fingers moved lazily over her phone, responding to Sherlock´s message:

"I´m waiting…" GM

Gemma Moriarty was more or less a psychopath she lacked empathy and defied rules of any kind, was always drawn to illegal activities but she was not unable of emotions. Maybe more a product of her upbringing though she never regretted her parents way to educate her sister and her. In her opinion the feelings she held for a certain consulting detective had made her weaker and in many ways worse. She had overstepped essential boundaries that were meant to protect her. It was inevitable to carve those feelings out once and for all because as long as he was alive she would feel. Gemma was perfectly aware that there was no world where they could be _together_ how would that work out anyway?

When she thought back to all those things that happened since she had planned to destroy Sherlock, it was all a blur. All over far too quickly. Gemma had been aware of Sherlock for a long time before they ever met. Indirectly she´d supplied him witch drugs a very long time ago. 'Kind of a stalker I am', she mused over her obsession. Probably she would even miss him.

As Sherlock entered the roof Gemma had replayed the song for the fifth time. The early morning brought a chilly wind. Gemma was tired oh so tired. Dark brown strands of her hair moved with the chilly air.

He was beaten, she remembered herself, beaten by her, in the end he was ordinary and not worth any more of her precious time. Never start something you find yourself unable to end. Straightening her back she took one last breath. One last inhale before things would go down. She could almost feel the tension, the promise of change but then it was no change at all it was going back to the ordinary distractions life held for her. Oh god she was tired.

Welcome to the final act of a twisted play. Let´s have some fun. Time to play.

"Here we are at last! You and me and our final problem!" She sighed heavily before continuing. "Stayin' alive. It´s so boring. Just staying…" Her hand moved in a straight line to emphasize her words.

Calmly she regarded him with a crocked smile before switching off the music, amused by Sherlock´s obvious tension that made him unable to stay still. His movement mirroring the workings of his mind.

"All my life I´ve been bored, searching for distractions and so far you´ve been the best one, Sherlock, but now I don´t even have you anymore because I´ve beaten you." Slowly she stood up straightening her black coat. "And in the end it was easy." Sherlock stopped dead in his pacing and turned towards her. "What do I do now? I´ve to go back to play with the ordinary people." She pouted and her red lipstick emphasized the movement of her mouth. Dark eyes roamed over the detective as she moved closer to him. She circled around him. "Did you almost start to wonder if I was real?" Her quite laugh sounded terrifying to Sherlock´s ears.

Finally Sherlock´s mind kicked back into motion.

"Ricarda Brook."

"No one seems to get the joke."

"Rich Brook. German for Reichenbach."

"Very good." Her tone had this light and mocking quality to it. She stood behind him now and her eyes dropped to his hands tapping the rhythm.

"Good. You got that, too!"

"Beats like digits. Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head – a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system."

"I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy."

"Yes, but now that it's up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Ricarda Brook and bring back Gemma Moriarty."

"Nooo! No, no, no. That´s too easy, Sherlock don´t be ordinary! There is NO CODE!"

"But the rhythm you tapped…"

"Partita number one. Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach."

"But then how did you –"

Gemma interrupted him spreading her arms: "How did I break into the Bank, into the Tower, into the Prison? Just daylight robbery, honey. All it took were some willing participants.  
>I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness – you always want everything to be clever." For a moment she seemed disappointed. "Now Sherlock, shall we finish that little game of ours? The final act of the play! I´m kind of glad you chose a tall building – nice way to do it." A smirk appeared on her face. Sherlock looked at her confused for a moment.<p>

"Do it? Do what? Yes, of course. My suicide." Gemma nodded slowly giving him a sympathetic smile; she lilted: "_Genius detective proved to be a fraud, violated the actress he hired for his story_. _I_ read it in the paper, so it must be true. I do _love_ newspapers. Fairytales. And pretty grimm ones too."

Sherlock inhaled: "I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity."

Gemma cocked her head to one side: "Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort. It´s all business, honey. You made that very clear." Her voice dropped until it was like ice, like venom injected directly into Sherlock´s veins, he shuddered. "As I made it very clear that your reputation will be ruined and you will give the ultimate prove to the story by killing yourself. You have to admit that´s sexier." She stood right next to him with a cruel smile on her lips.

Suddenly Sherlock turned and grabbed her by the collar of her woolen coat and held her over the edge of the roof. Anger contorted his features.

"Whoaa! Sherlock you want to let me fall? Well, well you dropped me already, sooooo…"

"You're insane."

"You're just getting that now?" Her eyes narrowed and the cruel smile slowly faded.

"Let´s sweeten the pot a little. If you don´t jump all your friends are going to die!"

Sherlock whispered in horror: "John." Gemma sighed heavily but dropped her voice to a whisper as well: "Not just John. Everyone, even though in your case that won´t be many." Sherlock pulled her back: "Mrs. Hudson."

"Honey,_ everyone_."

"Lestrade."

"Three bullets. Three gunmen. Three victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump. You can have me arrested, you can torture me, you can do anything you like with me, not that you didn´t do most of those things already… but nothing's gonna prevent my men from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die, unless -" A self-satisfied expression settled on her face.

"- unless I kill myself – complete your story." Sherlock´s gaze dropped to the floor in horror, he´d expected a lot of scenarios but jumping off of a building was not one of his favorite ones.

"No Sherlock, now it´s your story."

"I die in disgrace…"

"What did you think was the point of this whole game? Of course you will die in disgrace!" Her tone was still smug; Gemma had different scenarios planned out for her final act. By now she was kind of excited to find out which one it was going to be. Carefully she leaned over the ledge to look down over it holding back strands of her hair with her hand. "Oh look, you've got an audience now. Off you pop. Go on. I told you a while ago how it would end."

Sherlock felt fear rushing through his body his breathing is shaky now and he wished he had more control over his reactions right now. He would rather not give the criminal the satisfaction of seeing his painfully obvious anguish.

Gemma couldn´t let it go, she just loved to see him writhe: "Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. _I'm_ certainly not gonna do it."  
>With dragging steps Sherlock stepped on the ledge of the rooftop before he spoke again: "Would you give me one moment, please? One moment of privacy, Gemma?" By the sound of her name Gemma glanced up at the detective his eyes turned towards her own and a twinge in her chest made her shudder slightly. In a short flashback she saw him kissing her scars in the hotel room so long ago, maybe she needed a minute too; she tried to sound bemused but it came out forced: "Sure, honey."<p>

Sherlock looks around rapidly there was no chance to set his back-up plan in motion like this. More time was required and it came to him that he should have acted more carefully. Gemma might be insane but she was so well organized that Sherlock stood with his back to the wall. His mind raced in thousand directions while he tried to find a way out or at least a delay to get at least a chance to survive this. And then all of a sudden it was there, what did she just say? She won´t do it? Sherlock laughed out loud at the evident.

Gemma whirled around furious, what the hell was wrong now? "What?", she shouted disgruntled when Sherlock continued to laugh, "What is it? What did I miss?" With furrowed brows she took a step closer to him. Sherlock swiftly turned around and jumped back on the rooftop gracefully. Hands behind his back he walked quickly closer to her a satisfied smile on his lips he quotes her earlier words: "_You're__ not going to do it_. So the killers can be called off, then – there's a recall code or a word or a number. I don't have to die if I've got you."

Sherlock circled her while talking mirroring her former motion but Gemma barely turned her head to watch him before she started to giggle relieved: "Really? You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"

"Yes. So do you." This time his voice was like ice but Gemma brushed it off.

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."  
>"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you – prepared to do anything, prepared to burn, prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you." Wow, was he really thinkin' he could make her do a thing she didn´t want? He was certainly not his brother, she wouldn´t have fucked the older Holmes. Did he believe he could have had her in the cab if she didn´t want it? She could have broken his arm and snapped his neck before the pain had even reached his brain. No, he could certainly not do that, he was not prepared for the depth of her soul. He had only gotten a tiny glimpse. But on the other hand this was her cue, the comforting weight of the prepared gun rested against her chest. The end of the play had just been written. Gemma inhaled slowly, she reached inside her pocket to press the button on her phone to inform Moran, texting without seeing, just took some practice. 'I hope you are prepared Sherlock.'<p>

"Naah. You talk big. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the _angels_."

Sherlock felt more self-assured now and he leaned towards her before he spoke with menacing voice, she had been quite helpless in his hands before: "I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

'Doubtful morals, huh? Here we are Sherlock, just prove to me that you are no different than I. But guess what! So am I - prepared to do anything.'

"No, you're not." She replied a bit of wonder in her tone. "You're me." The last part came out different and Sherlock couldn´t quite put a finger on it but there was more to it. Gemma´s eyes were locked to his and it appeared that she was searching for something in the depth of them that made Sherlock shudder.

'Thank you for admitting, honey. But too late now, should have thought about _us_ sooner. Time to carve you out once and for all! Time for some last bit of my incredible acting!'

Gemma let her voice rise to a higher pitch: "You're me! _Thank_ you! Sherlock Holmes."

Meaningful she raised her hand for him to take; Sherlock stared at it for a moment before he reluctantly took her small cold hand in his. Gemma looked up at him again and raised to the tip of her feet until the heels of her pumps had no more contact with the ground. For the blink of an eye Sherlock seemed confused but then her lips touched his. Their hand still linked between their bodies Sherlock wrapped his other arm around her and deepened the kiss. Gemma was a bit surprised, she hadn´t anticipated this. Her eyes were still open when his were already closed; she kept them open to file away this last kiss in her mind to remember it later.  
>When they parted their hands were still locked. Gemma held his hand tight in her own; her face turned to stone and she spoke very quietly: "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends and you've got a way out." Her free hand retrieved the gun from her coat pocket. "Well, good luck with that."<p>

The cold comforting metal of the gun in her right hand filled her with confidence. Sherlock would be given no other option than to jump. The second she put the gun to her mouth and pulled the trigger, there was shock in his grey eyes the same color as the sky today, she remembered later. While she fell backwards to the hard ground of the rooftop of St. Bart´s she saw something break inside his eyes. Nevertheless there was no satisfaction like she imagined it; there was only a second of regret. Never start something you cannot end, she reminded herself. There was shock and unshed tears in Sherlock´s eyes as he stared at her body; both made her sick. She heard his steps on the roof towards the edge, she heard his phone call, and how he told John Goodbye and for a moment she wanted to take it all back, to really die. Then the phone call ended, she pushed herself just a tiny bit from the ground and saw him fall. She choked on a sob. 'NO! No you´re not going to cry! Get the hell out of here! Moran is on the way.' He would place the dead body of the woman that had a striking resemblance to her, she had learned from Irene´s fake suicide. There were no record official or not in the system and the data that had been collected during the court case had long been replaced by a willing participant. And this was the end.

There was no world where both could exist together, was there? There was no story where the villain gets the hero and gets to live a happy-ever-after-life.

* MS MR – Hurricane Sry same song again but I love it


	21. Chapter 21

NOTE: Thank you for your kind reviews, I´m truly happy you like it! Mentions of drug abuse, sadness and Moran being a good employee ;) Sorry there will be some Gemma/Sebastian in here, nooo not too sorry I guess. Some more backstory for the both of them. Hope you like the new chapter!

Chapter 20: Being dead

„The great detective Sherlock Holmes brought to fall by a pretty face. Who would have suggested?" Mycroft sneered complacent at Sherlock.

Sherlock slumped down in the arm-chair opposite of Mycroft not much to say himself.

"Was she pretty? I never recognised." Of course he had at one point recognized that Gemma had been quite beautiful though the concept of beauty was foreign to him. John had once pointed out how unfair it was that beautiful woman tended to throw themselves in Sherlock´s way and he was completely oblivious. But that had never been quite true; Sherlock was just never interested in the normal, the uninspired, the regular.

This was probably the first time Sherlock had truly thought about Gemma´s appearance. That had never been the reason why he´d been drawn to her, the similarity they shared had spiked his interest long before. He had lost himself in the darkness of her eyes and the depths that lay beneath them; he had been intrigued by her intellect, the way she had played him was beyond anything he´d ever experienced. That was far more important to him than how delicate her body was or the evenly her face. As Mycroft spoke again Sherlock nearly jumped, he was so lost in his train of thoughts for a moment.

"Oh, I´m sure you did. I hope at least because if it was her stunning personality I am slightly worried about your mental health, brother mine." Mycroft was far too pleased in Sherlock´s eyes. He wasn´t in the mood for a brotherly banter right now. A heavy sadness settled over him, he´d just lost everything he´d ever cared for: the few friends he had, believed him to be a fraud, his best friend believed him to be dead and the only person he´d ever wanted to be _his_ just killed herself. How was the saying? You never know what you have until you lose it?

"Don´t worry for my mental health." Far too late for that, he added inwardly. Secretly he thought it was Mycroft´s fault, Sherlock would never have abandoned Moriarty the way Mycroft made him. Probably he would never have left her at all. Maybe it was for the best.

_Weeks later_

It was rainy outside Gemma could hear the rain pouring on the roof-light of her flat distantly. Her dark eyes followed the way of the droplets running down the slant of the window. Paris was a beautiful city but Gemma hadn´t seen much of it the last weeks. Mostly she had stayed in her flat on the couch watching crap telly and being incredible high. She stretched her arm over her head lazily her fingers dragged over the small table next to the armrest of the couch until her fingertips touched the syringe. Next she fiddled for the band on the ground. In a fluent motion she tied it around her upper arm and carefully injected the needle into her veins. She loosened the ribbon and it fell back to the floor together with the syringe. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed in pleasure.

Emotions, stupid emotions wouldn´t leave her, why couldn´t she go back to her usual self? For a moment she didn´t know what it was, her chest constricted, for a moment she thought she was drowning. Her face felt strange so she reached up and her fingertips felt wet. A sob ripped through the quietness. 'Ohhh, right _crying_, that´s what we do now instead of blowing up people. Pathetic.' Pained she crawled in on herself and started to sob more violently. Never before in her life has she´d cried like she´d for the last weeks. Never before she´d felt _alone_. And she cried just for the sake of it and the knowledge it would bring at least a few hours of relieve.

Half a week later Sebastian arrived. He didn´t even know where Gemma was currently living, he hadn´t heard from her in weeks. He was not stupid, not as clever as Gemma but smart enough to track down someone, he hadn´t been CIA for nothing and he had been very good at his former job. Moran found her in more or less than two days. He stood before her apartment door but didn´t bother knocking or ringing; she wouldn´t answer the door anyway. In two minutes he picked the lock, the door clicked open. Hesitantly he stood before it knowing quite well he wouldn´t like what he would find. Moran knew her for too long to believe she was just taking a vacation.

Apparently he was not prepared for what he was about to find. Gemma was passed out on the couch the telly was running and drugs and supplies were sprawled over the table and the floor.

"Oh for Christ sake, Gem…" Moran stood in the messy flat for a few minutes deciding what to do next. He walked over to her limp form and picked her up gingerly. She stirred but didn´t wake up and Moran carried her to the bathroom. Carefully he put her in the bathtub and turned on the cold water. Gemma´s eyes snapped open, she gasped loud and squirmed violently under the ice cold spray. "WHAT THE FUCK!" Moran grabbed her shoulders and held her underneath of the pouring water. Her numb fingers tried to get hold of his arms. "SEBASTIAN!" When Moran was sure she had recognized him he let her go and stepped back warily. Anger vapored from her while she turned off the water. Shakily she stood up wearing nothing but a black negligee. Her eyes locked with his as she pulled the dress over her head and threw it right in his face. "Get out, I think I need a _hot_ shower now!"

Moran waited patiently on the couch until Gemma returned with a towel wrapped around her, water dripped from her hair. "What are you doing here? Shouldn´t you be running my business?"

"Do you care to explain this mess?" His hands pointed to the ground.

"No, I don´t." Slowly she moved closer until she loomed over him; gracefully she sat down on his lap pushing him back into the cushions with her hands.

"Gem… I don´t think…" Sebastian knew perfectly well how this would end but he was not sure if he would have the strength to resist her. They had done this before countless times but it meant nothing, never did, never would. The towel dropped to her hips, droplets of water ran down from her hair over her breasts… Yeah, he wouldn´t even try to resist, fuck better judgment! In a sudden movement he grabbed her and pulled her into a rough kiss. She never said his name during sex and it made him angry because he knew she´d cried out Sherlock´s name every time they´d been together. She should appreciate that Sebastian at least really cared for her not like this idiot. His hands found the soft flesh of her breasts and she moaned into his mouth grinding shameless against him. Reluctantly her fingers found hold in his crisp white shirt before she got hold of it and ripped it open in a fluent motion. In no time his pants were discarded and her slim hand positioned his cock before she pushed herself down on it. He saw her blown pupils and knew she was most certainly still high but he couldn´t find it in him to care. He fucked her on the couch with the knowledge he would regret it afterwards.

They´d had sex several times during their acquaintance and Moran had always liked it but of course he knew that it never meant what he would like it to. Though he never questioned what they had it was far too good to do that. Their first time had been after an extremely dangerous mission that had gone completely wrong. Gemma had just stood in the middle of the room in an incredible hot sleek black dress, all beauty and danger wrapped up in dark silk. It had been a party they´d attended to do a break in during it ended with them standing in a huge ball room surrounded by a bunch of frightful men threatening to kill them. They had no guns, no weapons at all but Gemma just stood her ground calm and collected. Moran was a skilled fighter but against fifteen armed men they should not stand a chance. With a cold smile on her lips Gemma walked through the room regarding every men with her dark eyes when she´d finished she stood right in the middle. She spoke with a lilt to her voice: "Darlings you can walk away now and live or you decide to stay and I will kill every – single – one of you." One of the man snorted taking a step closer to the middle: "You are crazy!" Gemma raised an eyebrow at him: "Maybe I am, maybe I´m not." She cocked her head to the side taking the last two strides closer to him. "Your wife has an affair with your second in command; you have a problem with your virility that´s why you seek your sake in whores who cannot help you. You´re afraid it is mental condition because the doctors' can´t help you either. Maybe it´s because you raped that girl in Bangladesh and you feel guilty about it. Maybe it´s because you lost control over your empire. Five of your employees currently in this room are plotting to overthrow and kill you including the man who screws your wife. She´s in on it by the way." The words rushed out of her and when she´d finished she waited a moment for the effect. The stunned silence, the confused looks and the scared ones all coming back to her, she enjoyed it just a second before she went on: "I am offering you to disclose every single one of those men with impervious proof if you let us leave."

The huge man, the owner of a drug-empire stood there under her calculating eyes shaking with anger. His voice trembled when he spoke to her in a low pressed murmur: "Who?"

Gemma giggled: "First things first. My dress is far too expensive to get all torn up in a gun fight. I will write it down for you, then we leave and then you can do whatever you desire."

"Fine."

Gemma had written down the names and the reasons of the rogue employees in fifteen minutes every now and then regarding one of them with cold eyes. Briskly she handed the paper to their boss and they left the house unharmed.

It had been crazy and dangerous but she was so good at playing people that it had been a pleasure to watch her. Fifteen minutes later she´d stopped the car outside town; they had both been high on adrenaline and they had fucked in the backseat. Always the same way; Gemma always had the control both in business and intimate matters but Moran really didn´t mind.

_A month later_

"WHAT?! Repeat that! I´m not sure I understood correctly!" Gemma was barely able to contain herself clutching the phone tight in her hand. Moran couldn´t be serious.

"Gemma, calm down. I don´t know if it´s true. The source isn´t very reliable."

"CALM DOWN?! I´M NOT CALMING DOWN!" Moran cringed at her voice he could picture her agitated face perfectly in his mind. His attempt to calm her hadn´t the desired effect Gemma was livid. How the hell was that even possible? She _saw_ him jump!

Moran sighed and repeated carefully what he´d heard: "The source said a man looking like Sherlock Holmes had been seen in South-America." He knew that giving this information to Gemma was stupid, but he knew if he wouldn´t give it to her and she would find out about it she would have him killed despite him being the closest thing to a friend she had. The other reason Moran couldn´t keep it from her ensued from her obvious feelings for the detective. Since Sherlock had died she was _different_ in a bad way, figuring she already was bad she was now horrible.

"WHERE?" No, no way, Gemma´s mind raced in a hundred different directions. Her heart started to beat faster and faster. It was over she was so relieved when it was finally over she couldn´t go through all those emotions again. Since Sherlock had jumped off of St. Bart's Gemma had become colder, most of all to herself. She´d stopped caring for anything and Moran had to handle most of the business alone because the larger part of the last two month Gemma had simply been high. The effort to drown out all feelings could only be achieved by a certain combination of drugs. At least until Moran took a flight to Paris to find her; when he finally found her he´d been furious with her self-absorbed behavior. Gemma had to admit it had also been the first time she´d been scared of him. After two weeks she was mostly clean and able to work again; so much for being better…

The silence on the other end of the phone started to annoy her: "I WON´T REPEAT THE QUESTION!"

"Bolivia."

"Where exactly?" Her voice was deathly quiet now.

"Palmasola."

"WHAAAAT?!" Gemma stood in the middle of Paris screaming into her phone which caused several people to give her strange looks and forgo her. Several deep breaths later she asked a lot lower: "Palmasola? The prison city we own? What the hell is he even doing there?"

"According to my source he´s trying to dismantle your web as he calls it. He tries to take it down." Moran´s shoulders were already hunched and his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of Gemma´s screaming that never came. He could only hear heavy angry breathing through the speaker.

"Great." Was her only response before she seemed to collect herself and continue: "I´m flying down there." 'And kill that idiot once and for all before he ruins my life completely!' She mentally noted.

"Wait, Gemma do you think that´s a good idea? Maybe you should just let him die down there…?"

Gemma straightened and turned around heading back to the Metro.

"Yeah, maybe you´re right. I´ll think about it." Moran wanted to say something about that she was a pretty bad liar but she´d already hung up.

Of course Sebastian was right, but she couldn´t stand the thought of someone else killing her detective. That´s just not the way this was supposed to be. Anger clouded her vision how dare he to undo her beautiful plan by still being alive. How did he even do it? Well, she did it too.

Back in her flat she grabbed a bag from under her messy bed and started to throw clothes into it and a few ceramic knifes, those always came in handy. Once in Bolivia she would buy one or two handguns. She searched hectically for one of the fake passports ripping open drawers and opening cupboard doors in the process. Where the hell did she leave those? Eventually she found the box with the passports, a handgun and different currencies in the kitchen under the sink buried under cleaning supplies she never used. "Clara Miller" would do nicely.

An hour after she´d received Moran´s call Gemma was on her way to the airport with an unsettling feeling in her guts. She felt giddy, excited and a third one she couldn´t quite define at first. Happiness maybe or relieve? Oh she´d become sentimental, great!

At the airport she took the next plane bringing her to Germany from there she could go further to Bolivia. First class flight to Frankfurt and then the next flight to La Paz. Why was she doing this again? Ah, right to kill Sherlock Holmes. Again.


	22. Chapter 22

NOTE: Mentions of violence, drug-abuse, torture, yeah mainly a lot of fun. The names are made up poorly… But the prison city is a real place. With the different languages – Just imagine there are talking Spanish Took me some time to get this finished…Sry for the delay, hope you enjoy! Thanks again for the nice comments!

Chapter 21:

Haunted

Palmasola

By now Gemma couldn´t remember anymore why exactly she thought it necessary to fly here and drive several hours in a filthy car over bumpy streets to look for Sherlock Holmes.

To get inside the prison city was easy. Her outfit was practical, khaki shorts, military boots, a black tank and a blouse as jacket. It was too damn hot. Beats of sweat trickled down her back. She carried a backpack over her shoulder with some supplies just for the case of emergency and more money. She had to bribe six guards to get inside this fucked up place. It was late at night by now and the safest time to walk through the prison without being noticed too much. Men and women lived inside the city which was run by prisoners. The momentary leader belonged to Gemma´s organization. They produced and sold drugs inside those walls but mainly they were responsible for most of the important crimes around this area. Really just a small link of her chain; as Sherlock would put it: a thread of her _web_. How dare he compare her with a spider?

Something shifted in the dark behind Gemma. And she could feel the presence of someone behind her in the dark alley before she could hear or see them. Two probably, but she could not be certain maybe there was someone else further away waiting. Her gun was in the backpack and she wanted to refrain from using it. It had a silencer but still the gunshot would attract too much attention. The knives then; one stuck in the back of her belt and one in her boot, she would go with them if things went sideways.

"Hey beautiful where you think you´re goin'?" A voice drawled from the dark street behind her. Gemma stopped in her tracks rolling her eyes at the comment and turned slowly. Two men, no not men more teenagers stood behind her. Her eyes roamed over them quickly deducing the necessities she needed to know. "You don´t belong here." The bigger one of them stated with curiosity when she´d fully turned.

"Obviously not. I´m looking for someone."

"And who might that be? Maybe you looking for me? I can give you a good time, no need to find someone else." The boy drawled smiling at her lazily while he walked closer with confident strides. The smaller one stayed quiet. The boy had dark combed-back hair and his clothes were finer than what people usually wore in here, he most definitely belonged to the Juan Honorez men. He started to circle her: "We could work something out, sweetheart."

Gemma chose to ignore his childish statements. "I´m looking for a tall man, dark curls, blue eyes, sort of a smartass."

"That´s your type? Maybe I´ve seen him…What can you offer in exchange?" The lazy smile curled his lips again as he leaned closer.

"Oh don´t do that, _sweetheart_." When he reached out to touch her face Gemma had had enough, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it violently until the boy was on his knees and his arm behind his back. The other boy moved forward but stopped dead as Gemma through him a look that told him he would die if he took one more step and he preferred to live. She leaned down until her lips almost touched the boy´s ear and spoke with a low and threatening voice ready to kill both of them if one dared to annoy her any further: "Get me to your boss, he has something of mine."

"And who are you?" The boy choked out with a pained grimace contorting his face.

"Moriarty." She let go of his arm and the boy scrambled to his feet.

"No way! Moriarty´s a man! Everyone knows that!" He exclaimed.

"You wanne bet?" She smirked and stepped closer until she was only inches away from the boy´s face. "I. Am. Moriarty. And if you don´t get me to your boss right now –", she paused for the dramatic effect "I will become your worst nightmare." The boy was confused about the fact that an actual shiver ran down his spine, the woman was much smaller than him but still fucking intimidating and he had no clue why. The boys looked at each other until the quiet one shrugged and turned to lead the way. In his opinion someone else could deal with the crazy woman.

"F-fine, just follow us."

"He´s in here." The fat man in an ill-fitting suite led the way to a room in the back of the so-called house. The floor consisted of dirt and the smell was loathly.

"What did you say you want him for?" The man known as Juan Honorez asked carefully turning towards her.

"I did not." Gemma stopped in front of the door staring the small round man down. Most people couldn´t stand to look upon her eyes for long, they tend to look away after approximately 2 point 5 seconds maximum. Sherlock had never looked away he´d never been afraid of what he would see in the depth of her eyes. The poor figure of a mafia boss dropped his gaze after only 2 point 1 seconds and turned quickly towards the door. With a lot of effort he opened the lock before opening the door he asked: "Do you require any more assistance?" He nodded towards the two guards behind them.

"I can handle myself perfectly well, thank you." Gemma grabbed the handle of the door herself got inside and slammed the door immediately behind her. It didn´t take much to hear the boss talk to his men through the poorly build door.

His plan was as poorly build as the door but he had the advantage; she was alone and he had an army of prisoners. There were about 25 minutes left to work out a decent plan to get out of this shithole again.

One deep breath turned into three and Gemma was still holding the door handle, was she actually afraid to turn around? Of what she might see? That it was him or that it was not him? Very slowly she turned towards the sound of shallow breathing behind her. Sherlock was on his knees his hands were bound with rope above his head fixed to a hook on the wooden ceiling. His head rested on his chest he was unconscious and his condition was bad to say the least. He´d been tortured for at least a whole day that was about the time it took Gemma to get here. Blood had drenched his ripped clothes and the fingers of his right hand had been broken, but the worst was a stabbing wound to the side that had been inflicted recently and still bled. Gemma drew a knife from her belt, she´d come here to end things personally. She walked over to where Sherlock was hanging the knife circling in her right hand. As she stood over his hunched body she felt her heart-rate increase. Deftly she kneeled down before him taking in his sight before she raised her left to his face. Ever so gently she caressed his cheek with her now trembling fingers. His face was a bloody mess and her fingers smeared the blood.

"Oh honey, you should have jumped. Would have been a lot less painful than this."

The soft Irish drawl of a female voice reached Sherlock´s ear but he couldn´t understand what she was saying he was too far gone.

Her grip tightened around the blade in her right and she took another deep breath before she raised it to his throat. Deliberately she placed the knife on the left side of his neck and slowly pushed it into his tender flesh. Blood spilled steadily over the blade running down to the handle eventually making contact with her fingers. Her grip was so tight around the knife-handle that her knuckles had turned white. She gasped as the hot liquid made contact with her icy skin. Shocked she lost her balance and fell ungracefully on her butt. In horror she stared at the now bloody knife in her hand. She couldn´t do it. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, her whole body shaking violently. "See what you have done to me, Sherlock? I can´t even kill you anymore!" She spat while she scrambled back to her feet. Still heavily breathing she paced the room. This was not how she´d planned things to go. Why couldn´t she just kill him?

Behind her Sherlock was coughing, she couldn´t let him see her drained like this. Swiftly she moved back to him and cut the rope with the bloody blade. The injured man fell heavily to the floor with a low thud. Gemma crossed the room and dragged a chair over to him. 'I need a new plan…', she thought tiredly. She placed the chair next to Sherlock´s body and sat down crossing her legs in the process.

When he cracked his good eye open he saw a heavy military boot only inches away from his face. He followed the shaft of the boot up but it didn´t continue into hairy legs but into the small smooth legs of a woman. Her legs were crossed and clad in khaki shorts. With a lot of effort Sherlock tried to push himself up from the ground only to be rewarded with a kick into his side. The woman had gotten up quickly and the chair she´d been sitting on clattered to the ground. Sherlock grunted in pain and fell back to the dirty floor. The boot was pushed under his stomach and he was flipped over on his back roughly. He had to cough hard and blood spilled from his lips. There was a new wound on the side of his neck that hadn´t been there the last time he had been conscious. The woman walked around him until she placed one leg over his body and crouched down over his chest. She grabbed the rest of his shirt and pulled him up. His numb hands tried to get hold of her wrists. She whispered in a low threatening voice: "You have two options, honey. One: stay here and die. Two: Come with me."

Sherlock was startled the, Irish accent again and through his blurry vision he thought he saw _her_. That should be impossible! What kind of torture was this? Or maybe an illusion a side-effect from the recent drug-abuse. Or maybe just maybe he had been right all along, she hadn´t died that day on the rooftop.

With one strong push he´d thrown the woman off of him. Again Gemma landed ungracefully on her back she huffed out an annoyed breath while Sherlock scrambled into a sitting position. His eyes went wide with horror.

"No, that´s impossible." Gemma gave him her crocked smile and stood up brushing of dust from her shorts.

"If you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Your words." She cited with a dramatic gesture. "I´m not a ghost and no drug-inflicted illusion just so you´re wondering. You on the other hand look pretty bad."

Sherlock only stared at her, Gemma looked different in a tank top and shorts for that matter but her hair was not dark anymore it was a lighter tone of brown and kind of reddish pulled back into a high ponytail. To Sherlock she appeared stressed and drained. Her whole body language was keyed-up. If it was really her, he could still be dreaming or high or dead.

But how did she do it, how was she still alive? He saw her shooting herself.

Gemma shrugged as if answering his unspoken questions: "Just a magic trick, honey." She tried so hard to sound casual but to her own ears her voice was strained. She walked closer and extended her hand towards Sherlock before she realized it was blood-stained. For a moment Sherlock only looked at her hand before he reached his uninjured left one up to the new wound on his neck.

"You came here to kill me." It was rather a statement than a question. "What an effort." How could he still sound so arrogant even though he was all beaten up and bloody?

"Obviously I changed my mind." Gemma narrowed her eyebrows in annoyance.

"Did you? How come?" Gemma refused to answer that question and waved her extended hand instead. This time he took it and let her pull him to his feet.

"Let me see your other hand." Gemma held up her palm and waited for him to place his injured hand in it. Sherlock was still confused and suffering from the last shot plus he had been tortured and was barely able to stand. He hesitated his brain was still unable to process what was happening.

"God dammin´ it! It´s already broken." Gemma simply grabbed Sherlock´s wrist and pulled it towards her to examine the broken bones. Every finger had been broken one by one. She turned around and grabbed the chair from the ground; quickly she placed it behind Sherlock and ordered him to sit down. She kneeled between his legs his broken hand in hers again.

"Sherlock this is going to hurt but if I don´t fix your bones now, you won´t be able to play the violin ever again." Gemma´s voice was serious as she spoke while she gently touched his fingers.

"What does it matter? Why do you even care?" Heavily he leaned against the back of the chair.

"I like your play." And with that she ripped the first finger back into the right position. Sherlock blacked out again and missed the treatment of the other four fingers. He woke up while Gemma bandaged his hand with supplies from her backpack carefully.

"I´m not really prepared to take you with me. So it will be a bit improvised." She shrugged and glanced down.

"I´m charmed, the great Moriarty comes all the way to Bolivia to rescue me."

"Are we on last name basis again?" Amusement made her voice lighter.

"I don´t know you tell me." Sherlock sounded genuine and curious, "I thought you were dead."

"That was the point though I thought you were dead, too. Anyway which option?"

"To live obviously."

"Well then I will be your hero today. You are very lucky that I´m in a good mood."

"I doubt you are anything close to a hero but neither am I. What´s the plan?"

"No plan yet, killing everyone in the way, miraculously getting out of this goddam shithole and finding transport to get back to Santa Cruz and then La Paz."

"Mmmh… I guess there is no other option. Do you have anything close to morphine?"

"Sure."

"Might I point out that you brought first aid and morphine? Clearly you had second thoughts on killing me before you even came here." Sherlock took some of the offered pills and swallowed them with some water Gemma had handed him before.

"The most commitment you´ll get. Call it sentiment, I don´t care. You should thank me."

"Thank you? What for? I could have gotten out of this on my own."

"Yaaa I can see that. Why did you come here? And just an advice maybe you shouldn´t have done it on drugs, whatever you thought you were doing here."

"The marks on the crook of your arm tell a different story. So the devious criminal has a mundane problem like a drug addiction?"

"You´re one to talk and none of your business by the way."

"It´s quite easy to deduce what triggered your relapse. My occasional drug habit on the other hand is no secret."

"Don´t you dare to say another word, Sherlock Holmes, or I swear to all the gods I will leave you here to die."

"That just confirmed my deduction."

"Oh don´t be so smug!" She got to her feet again and scanned the room for another way out but there were no windows. Silently she walked back to the wooden door and peered through the spacing between to laths. The two guards were still outside, to take them down without too much noise wouldn´t be hard but the rest of the way… She glanced at her watch; they had only about two hours left before sunrise. If they wanted to make it out alive it had to be now.

"Resting is over, get up we need to leave."


	23. Chapter 23

NOTE: It took me forever to get this ready, so sry! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 22: Daring escape

„We have to take the straight way, no other way out than through this corridor. Put your hand behind your back and stay behind me I´ll take the guards down." Sherlock was startled by her bossy tone and he snapped irritated: "I can handle myself."

"Ya sure you can honey, but with dislocated fingers and a few cracked ribs plus the drugs… I rather rely on my skills." She turned back to the door.

Sherlock had to admit she´d a point but he wouldn´t let this go, he wasn´t a damsel in distress: "Give me at least one of your knives."

"Nope I'll need both." And with that she swung the door open and stalked out of the room into the small corridor.

The guards turned immediately towards her blocking the way. They were holding machine guns now.

"I will take him." She nodded vaguely in the direction of Sherlock behind her.

"The boss wants to talk to you; you have to come with us." One of the men replied stepping into her personal space the other guard a step to the side behind him.

"Nah, I hate to turn him down but I´m dreadfully busy." Gemma took one step forward raising an expectant eyebrow at the guard in her way.

"Mam, I have to insist."

"Mmh sorry but I have to insist as well." Sherlock watched with amazement how quickly and precisely Gemma moved. Forcefully she rammed her knee into the guard´s groin when he doubled over in pain she slammed her elbow in his neck. Before the guard hit the floor she had grabbed the gun of the other one pushing it down in his hand out of her way with her left hand; her right one had already reached for the knife in her belt. Sherlock was stunned, she reminded him of an antique relief of a fighting amazon he´d once seen with Mycroft when he was a kid. However the way she was taking the guards out, peaked his curiosity more. The new data he could collect formed itself into brand new information about her, even if it was dreadfully slow like dragging his feet through a deep and muddy ground with his foggy mind. He snapped back the moment Gemma´s right hand pushed the blade through the man´s neck. The guard made wet choking sounds before he died. Roughly she pulled the knife out and whipped it clean on the shirt of the guard. Sprinkles of blood covered her arm and her face. She turned back to Sherlock one eyebrow raised.

"Are you coming?"

Sherlock stepped awkwardly over the bodies in his way. He had known from the way her body was formed and trained and from first-hand experience of course that she was a skilled fighter but to see it was still different and probably she´d never shown him her full skillset before to hide her identity from him and he hated to admit it, but he never had the faintest idea that she had once been CIA.

They left the house through a back door vanishing in the darkness of the night. Sneaking through back alleys and hiding behind boxes or trash whenever hearing someone approach made them unbearable slow and Sherlock´s injuries didn´t help for that matter. Gemma walked in front of him when she suddenly turned to pull him behind some boxes. Sherlock watched her expression and was reminded of doing so when she slept. Mycroft had told him this undertaking was pointless to say the least but Sherlock had been right; Moriarty was alive. When one of Mycroft´s men had spotted her in France Sherlock had known that the only chance to lure her out was by attacking her web. And he´d been right, obviously. The time that had passed since his faked suicide had been dreadful. No work, no John, no Bart´s, he´d loathed every second of it. Just able to do some legwork for Mycroft nothing of importance of course. And the ongoing knowledge that he´d lost the only worthy opponent. It was no wonder he´d turned to recreational substance abuse just to quiet the voices for a bit. He was still surprised by Gemma´s appearance today though he wouldn´t admit it to her. Days of drug-induced dreams had gone by while he had seen her and now she crouched in the cover of some trash next to him. All he wanted was to get her back in some way he couldn´t wrap his mind around but more so he wanted to drag her back to London and get his old life back she´d so neatly deconstructed while he couldn´t do a thing to prevent it. He was torn between the two, Mycroft had always told him caring was a disadvantage found on the losing side and his brother was right, it would do him no good to dwell on their relationship, _she_ would do him no good. Bad influence to say the least but nevertheless she was here now saving him. It was most obvious that his presumed death hadn´t done her any good either. Sherlock imagined that she might have thought with him gone she could go back to how things were before she let herself get attached, but obviously she couldn´t. If this was what love felt like Sherlock would rather go back to before he knew this kind of utterly pointless sentiment.

"Oh please, stop thinking so loud! It´s annoying!" Gemma´s complain caught him of guard.

"I´m trying to get us out of here but I can´t form a decent thought when you won´t stop to dwell. It´s pointless anyway!"

"You came to me." Sherlock sounded almost offended.

"Well, that was a mistake, didn´t know you would be such a bothersome damsel in distress." Gemma muttered under her breath while she tried to look past the boxes.

"As I pointed out before, I would have been perfectly able to free myself." Sherlock retorted trying to get a good view of the street himself but Gemma´s head was in his way. With his uninjured hand he pushed her head down. "Let me see!" A flashlight illuminated the dark alley and both of them fell back behind their cover.

"For god´s sake, Sherlock!" Gemma whispered irritated pushing him away from her.

"Your plan hasn´t gotten as far maybe the drug-abuse has clouded your judgment." He could practically feel her eyes bore into him.

"Maybe they have! I´m sitting in a shitty alley hiding from men who were supposed to work for me with a man who should be dead. Whom I just saved, just for the record, and who doesn´t ... nevermind. So yes you´re quite right, my judgment _must_ be disastrous. I have a business to attend to!" Gemma taunted glaring at Sherlock.

Sherlock was rendered speechless for a moment but before he could respond Gemma went on without looking at him anymore, her attention turned back to the guys at the end of the alley.

"Consider this a parting gift. We have shagged a few times, played an exquisite game and now that we´re both dead I will generously grant you your life. But if we are out of this – you stay the fuck out of my business! I would make some sort of threat but I guess it is unnecessary. "

In the shadow of the wall they made their way to the next ally crossing a bigger street without being seen when Gemma suddenly stopped and Sherlock bumped into her.

"Why are we stopping?"

Instead of answering Gemma pulled out her phone and looked something up.

"Do you see the house over there? The only fancy one around? I have to go there first, you are free to do whatever you want." And without another word she broke into a run and disappeared behind the next corner. Sherlock hesitated only a second before starting after her. He was much slower with his injuries; fresh blood started soaking through his already ruined shirt. The painkillers helped to cease the ache in his side. A few minutes later he reached the house that Gemma had called fancy but it was more a two-story shed than anything else. Carefully he looked around and when he couldn´t make out any threats he made his way towards the front door to find it open. Gemma did do a poor job in hiding her break-in. Inside it was worse Sherlock climbed over several dead men and a lot of blood. Every single one had been killed with a knife, she obviously didn´t want to alert the man she was after with gunfire. Panting Sherlock reached the top floor where only one door led to a room. The door was slightly ajar and Sherlock could hear her familiar voice. And he wondered when exactly he´d started to think of her as something like _familiar_.

With his uninjured hand he pushed the door open his eyes scanned the room which served as an office to find two more dead guards on the floor and their still-alive leader sunken on a leather chair behind a desk. Gemma stood in the middle of the floor with a handgun in her bloody left pointed to the man´s heart.

"Sherlock, honey, I told you to wait outside." She lilted without turning around. Sherlock could hear that she was slightly out of breath and spotted some fresh injuries from the fighting.

"So Mr. Honorez back to us. Could you tell me why exactly you would jeopardize the extremely beneficial business agreement you have with me?"

"I- I dint´knooow! I thought you were a fraud, not- not the real Moriarty! I never knew you were a… a woman….And people were talking, you know, they were saying you had died a-a-a-and someone else made me an offer – so I had to assume he was honest when he told me you were dead and…." Honorez pleaded still hoping for his life.

Gemma stared him down, Sherlock wondered if she was even considering his words or just dragging the moment out to let him suffer through the alternating emotions of hope and fear.

"Please Miss Moriarty! Take your prisoner and I swear nothing like this will ever happen again!" Now he was shamelessly begging for his life.

"I´m sure it won´t." Gemma´s voice turned cold Sherlock was sure her mind was racing to figure out who would dare to cross the infamous Moriarty.

"Yes! Yes I promise I- my men we will make it up to you!" He winced, hope succeeding at the moment.

Sherlock couldn´t see Gemma´s expression but he knew she was smiling now a distant polite smile when she answered: "You will be replaced, Mr. Honorez."

For a split second Sherlock felt the need to intervene, he saw John´s face before his eyes and the moral compass he´d represented for him, but Sherlock pushed it away why should he? In this world morality was no use. It was much easier, there was no such thing as mercy and in the end this man had tortured him, suddenly Sherlock couldn´t find any reason why he should do anything.

The shot of the gun ripped him out of his thoughts, Mr. Honorez lifeless body dropped on the stained carpet. Gemma turned back to face Sherlock and their eyes met. There was coldness and distance in hers like he had never seen it before, she´d never lain her gaze upon him with that expression.

"We need to leave." They descended the stairs. Sherlock felt light-headed now, the drugs already wore off and he was still losing blood. "I thought you didn´t like to get your hands dirty." He stated matter-of-factly as they left the building quickly without discovery.

"I don´t but I never implied I couldn´t."

"You learned that skillset at the CIA I presume." Another statement only this time Gemma turned her head to look him over carefully.

"Why would you assume I worked for any government?" There was a tiny hint of hesitation.

Sherlock took a self-satisfied breath before he began to rattle on his earlier deductions: "Your boots." Gemma´s eyes drooped to her shoes for a second and she sighed. "They are old at least ten years, the leather is cracked on several spots were it was flexed repeatedly through walking, running and so on; they have the signs of shoes that do fit perfectly thanks to breaking them in over a long time. Still they are in good shape for their age what means the owner used to clean and wax them regularly. It has to be a long time ago because when you look more closely the leather has the distinctive texture of a long time storage without use or care. This model in particular isn´t military but close so who needs boots like this but is not the military? Government. Government agencies aren´t rare but you don't find those shoes in European organizations, so where else would someone like you go? Possibly English-speaking country, so America it is. With your abilities most likely CIA, supported by the way of your close-combat fighting I would root for them. Of course you could have learned martial arts anywhere but all the facts tied together – I am most certain you worked for the CIA about ten years ago and kept the boots."

Gemma had walked on in front of Sherlock while he was busy talking. By now Sherlock held far too many puzzle-pieces of her past if he started to connect them… she just shrugged: "They are really comfortable."

Sneaking through the rest of the prison city they hardly spoke another word, mostly because Gemma was annoyed and refused to confirm Sherlock´s deduction when he asked far too smugly if he was right.

An hour later they reached the checkpoint, the policemen were bribed and with a bit extra money let both of them leave despite all the blood they were covered in and their desolate conditions. They cared little for what happened inside the prison.

They walked for almost half an hour, when they reached the point where Gemma had parked the car it was gone. 'Of course it is gone!', she thought. Anger mixed with desperation and she wished she would have informed Moran or brought back-up or would have just killed Sherlock. All those problems just because she could not stand the thought of losing him again though she knew they possibly wouldn´t see each other again after this. The overwhelming wish to scream and kick something left her shaking with the attempt to suppress this emotional outburst. Considering everything she had indeed screwed up, completely lost her posture. Sherlock would see all of it plain and easy written on her face. She was so close to completely losing it right now that it scared her, for hours she´d craved her drugs though she was clean right now she still felt it. Tears welled up in her eyes. Why did everything have to go wrong today? Her fists clenched at her sides in anticipation for Sherlock´s snarky comment how poorly she´d planned all this.

It never came when she turned around Sherlock had sunk down against a wall. Gemma sat down next to him and started to search for something in her backpack finally she retrieved a pack of cigarettes; she wiped her hand on her shorts and fumbled two cigarettes out of the box, lit both and handed one to Sherlock. She took a drag and exhaled a puff of smoke slowly she regained some of her calm. With her free hand she fumbled her phone out of her pocket there was a text from Moran that said: "Call ASAP!" She went on to look a few things up to develop a new escape route. Moran could wait she didn´t feel like getting a lecture right now, how does he even dare to lecture her?

"So that was quite disastrous." She took another drag. "Fun, though."

Sherlock inhaled the smoke deeply with shaking fingers. He managed a weak smirk.

"I have to admit you´re very resourceful."

"Oh a compliment! I´m flattered."

"Who is after you?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side to watch her more closely.

"Honestly I have not the slightest idea but I will figure it out. I always do."

She put the cigarette out on the ground and pulled Sherlock back up.

"There will be a bus in 42 minutes but we have to walk to the bus-stop. It will take us approximately 31 minutes in our current state. It is neither ideal nor a good one but our only option."

"Why don´t you call back-up? Why didn´t you bring any in the first place?"

"Shut up and walk!"

"Now I´m flattered, the great Moriarty came alone as soon as she heard I was in trouble?"

"Oh honey you should learn to become more grateful not everyone has a consulting criminal coming to their rescue." That actually earned her a chuckle from the detective.


	24. Chapter 24

Interlude

The window in her bedroom was wide open to let a cool breeze into the over-heated room but it was futile. The hot summer air from the cloudless day still hung over her bed like a blanket. Uncomfortable she threw herself from one side to the other kicking her blanket away in the process. Sleep just wouldn´t come to her like so often. Her mind never shut up.

Thoughts twisting their way to the surface of her sleepy brain keeping her from drifting off. Hazel eyes stared at the ceiling tracing patterns in the wood. Sometimes when she wasn´t able to relax and all attempts to finally fall asleep were in vain she would read to distract herself but tonight she didn´t feel much like reading at all.

Tonight her father had told her about her future about the plans that her mother and he had made for her. At nights like this she dreaded being born in a family like hers and wished for a more or less normal life as pathetic as it sounded to her own ears; though she knew whenever she´d been at other kid´s houses (which had been very few times) and had met their families she felt that she didn´t belong there either. The way the parents kept staring at her whenever she´d said something, monitored every movement as if she was a threat to their children had made her sad the first few times.

Now however she was used to people´s stares and the wariness in their eyes. Many times she´d wished to be ordinary, fatuitous like everyone around her, things seemed to be much easier on their side. Being far too smart for one´s age wasn´t easy. After a few years she´d figured out why they acted like they did around her and had decided friends weren´t necessary just an obligation to seem at least a bit more _normal_.

At a very young age she´d started to develop a perfect mask for the outside world. School was another obligation her parents forced her to follow up to in order to keep appearances. In school she was a nerdy kid with long brown hair with too much red to it, always sitting in the back, keeping to herself but having people to talk to, loners always get too much unwanted attention, just answering when the teachers asked her but if they did she would give the perfect answer so she´d maintained excellent grades.

Sometimes kids started to bully her and once after a fight at her old school where she´d broken the bully´s nose, she´d learned that her parents didn´t like that kind of attention. Questions like: `why can your daughter break someone´s nose with a precise punch?' weren´t appreciated. They´d moved shortly after. Again.

Her mind lingered on the conversation with her father; she repeated it over and over to get every angle of it.

"It is time to talk about your future. Your mother and I have plans you should learn about." Her father sat at the table close to the fireplace cleaning guns. Genna was unwilling and would rather do something else but she obliged and sat down opposite to her father.

"Genna, you know what your sister is going to do? She´s good with rifles, perfect eyesight, great aim, you? Not so much but you´re a clever girl, too clever if ya ask me." Genna rolled her eyes and sighed. "I will never be as good with guns as Yasmine is and I most certainly do not want to become anything like a stupid sniper assassin for hire."

"In our line of work we do as we´re told, we sell our skills, we _follow_ orders. You´re not good at that, either." Genna just sat there and stared into the fire through a curtain of her hair with her arms crossed defiantly in front of her.

"No, you are destined to do greater things, Genna. Your mother and I think you should complete your training as Yasmine and when you´re ready and old enough open up your own business to sell and coordinate our kind of work."

"By own business you mean criminal business! And if I don´t want to? If I want to be … something else?" Her father put the rug down that he´d just used to polish a hand-gun.

"Genna don´t be stupid, doesn´t suit ya! Discussion is over for now, this is no voting and this is not a democracy." With that he got up and left into the kitchen where her mother was cooking dinner. For some time Genna just sat at the table and pouted. Her sister had been thrilled to say the least when her parents had revealed their plans for her future. Genna couldn´t understand why anyone would be _thrilled_ to hear she would become an assassin for hire. How dreadfully boring.

A creaking noise from the stairs ripped her from her thoughts. Yasmine must be returning from her night out of the prison. She was only a few years older than Genna and was allowed to do what she wanted because she did always as she was told. Tonight she´d gone to a party at some popular kid´s house whose parents were out of town.

Genna listened to the low noises her sister made when climbing up the stairs. Easily she had memorized all the different types and sounds of the movements of her family and that was why she knew immediately that something was wrong, that something had happened. The pattern of her sister´s steps was out of place, sounded changed somehow. Swiftly she jumped out of her bed and stumbled over clothes on the floor towards her door. There she hesitated for a second not entirely sure she wanted to know or see what would greet her in the small hallway. Slowly she turned the doorknob and opened the door a bit. She had to blink a few times out here it was much darker than in her room. Without thought she whispered her sister´s name into the darkness but got no answer. Her bare feet made no sounds on the wooden floor as she left her room and sneaked into the hallway where she could finally make out the form of her sibling. "Yasmine?" Her voice sounded unsure and tiny. "Are you alright?" Genna didn´t want to wake her parents.

"Go back to bed!" Her sister´s voice was harsh but there was another quality to it like voices sound when one had cried.

Genna didn´t follow her sister´s order she never did and took a few steps closer until she could see her better and she looked indeed horrible. At the sight of her sister Genna inhaled a sharp breath before she laid her hand on her shoulder. The blouse from her school uniform was torn and a bad bruise covered her right eye Genna could detect dried and wiped away blood on her bottom lip and more bruises on her wrists and thighs but those were mostly covered by the rim of her navy skirt. Clues transformed into deductions and though Genna was only nearly twelve she knew what all those could mean, must mean.

Very early Genna had come to realize that she lacked what other people called empathy, often she had been called cold-hearted or worse but it wasn´t quite true she did have feelings but didn´t care to show them because of their obvious uselessness. Right now she wished that she was unable to feel anything because she was horrified, scared, angry, sad and utterly helpless.

"Yasmine? What-what happened?" Her voice was an even more tiny whisper that cracked at the end and became a sob. Yasmine didn´t react. Genna´s small hand took her sister´s and she walked her into her bedroom at the end of the hall. Her sister didn´t try to resist the leading of her sister.

Yasmine told her not to say a word to her parents and refused to leave her room for the next two days. Her parents didn´t seem to care or notice the odd behavior of their daughter so Genna felt the need to do something on her own. It took her only one day of investigation to find out who was involved and who the leader of the group was. Three boys from their school. The followers didn´t matter, the leader however did. Genna had hated him before and everything he stood for but with what he had done now… Yasmine had repeatedly refused Genna´s attempts to convince her to go to the police and Genna couldn´t deal with the helplessness she was experiencing.

Carl Powers was his name, one of the popular kids all the girls liked him but yet he preferred to hurt her sister.

The next morning after the weekend was as hot as the last two days had been. Genna walked from their cottage to school with the intention to confront Powers. Patiently she waited in front of the boy´s locker-room of the swimming-pool. She counted the boys who left the locker until she was sure only one remained. Before she´d watched the swimming exercise and had seen Powers to be the last one in the pool, she´d learned that he was training for a competition next week. The heels of her leather shoes clicked on the tiles and echoed from the walls as she entered the locker-room.

"Who´s there?" Carl Power´s voice came from the back of the room two rows of lockers between them. Genna didn´t answer before she reached the final row and had turned it to face him. The boy was already wearing his school uniform, trousers and shirt. He turned towards the sound and saw a small girl standing there.

"Hey! This is the boy´s room! Get lost!" Genna didn´t move and regarded him with cold eyes.

"Carl Powers, I came to understand you know my sister?" Carl raised an eyebrow he was much taller than her, strongly build and she was sure that she couldn´t fight him but she needed to do this regardless. He turned back to his bag and continued to pack it.

"And who are you?"

"Doesn´t really matter, does it? You know my sister that´s all that matters."

Now he stopped and turned back towards her. "What do you want?" He was irritated and took a few steps in her direction. An intimidation Genna was sure usually worked just fine but she didn´t react, didn´t flinch what seemed to confuse him.

"You hurt my sister and I came to tell you that you have two options." With every word she took a step closer and was now half a circle around him while he followed her with his eyes. "Option one: You will turn yourself in to the police and your _buddies_." She emphasized the last word with a bitter tone. "Or option two: you will pay for what you did." Genna stood close to Powers and whispered the last words.

But Powers only laughed. "And you will do what exactly? You are just a girl!" Genna didn´t answer just stood there and stared up. "And you´re obviously crazy." Still Genna did neither react nor answer. Powers grew more and more irritated until he snapped. He pushed the girl into the metal lockers. "Here is a proposal for you! Go to hell!" His forearm pressed against her neck and to his horror she didn´t react in any way, she didn´t even cry out when her back hit the metal. "Your sister is a filthy whore and got what was coming to her!" He was screaming now but let her go and to grab her hair instead and drag her out of the locker-room towards the pool.

Genna felt the panic rising in her chest; her fingernails scratched his arm and hand as she tried to free her hair from his violent grasp. Of course this meant option two if he wouldn´t drown her in the pool.

And then the cool water of the pool was all around her she tasted chlorine, it hurt her wide open eyes, her lungs burnt with the desperate need for air. Dark wisps of hair floated around her face her school uniform got heavier, ever so slowly her vision got blurry. For all that she still didn´t struggle and that freaked Carl Powers out. He would have liked to drown that little bitch right here.

Fear pumped through her veins it felt like ice and took everything of her not to struggle. Tears floated from her wide eyes and Genna was more than happy he couldn´t see it. All her life she´d never felt so scared and helpless. Everything started to hurt, her muscles contracted and her lungs burnt even more. Finally she couldn´t hold her breath anymore. Water entered her nose and mouth forcing its way down her trachea. The pain was overwhelming and her consciousness began to float away.

Eventually he let go.

Genna´s hands sought hold on the rim of the basin and she barely managed to pull herself up. Coughing and retching she lay prone for a few minutes on the cold tiles before she managed to drag herself up and stumble away from the dreadful pool. 'Option two it is.'

The first murder, the first attempt in anything is always a very special occasion. Some people liked to jump into the cold water without thinking or hesitation, a reckless behavior and not one that suited Genna. In every matter she preferred careful planning and testing beforehand. Approach a new subject from every angle, learn everything about it, investigate and validate every option even failure. Don´t forget to consider possible consequences. With all that done pick the right time and place, be prepared and in this specific case: don´t get caught.

Completely drenched Genna walked home that afternoon ignoring the strange looks people gave her on the way and the horrible burning sensation in her lungs. She realized that her hands were trembling not from cold it was far too hot but from anger. The cottage was already in sight when she decided to go to her favorite place. An old tree close by the cottage was perfect for climbing and Genna loved to climb it whenever she felt out of her usual balance. Her small fingers dug into the bark of the old tree. The rough texture of the bark grazed her skin on her fingers and on her bare legs but she didn´t care. On a particular high but still broad branch she rested watching the sun. Her school-uniform had started to dry and the anger began to sooth. Finally she was able to clear her mind from the searing anger, it was no use working on a plan to murder someone with an occupied mind. She had a natural ability to suppress and ignore pain so this didn´t influence her thoughts. A neat plan practically constructed itself in a few hours with her newly required background knowledge of Carl Powers she´d discovered during their meeting in the locker-room.

Patience was a difficult trait but Genna managed to wait for the right time. And when the time came it was all so easy. Child´s play.

After the deed was done Genna realized a few things about herself she didn´t particular appreciate. For one she didn´t feel remorse not one bit, no regret at all. The second thing she hated more than the fact that she wasn´t capable to regret, was the idea that settled in her mind. The wish to become something else than what her parents were, was shattered into pieces. Her path was pretty much settled from that day on.

A little time passed, the incident with the poor kid that drowned in the pool was all over the news though no one discovered it was more than a tragic accident. No one except for a boy. Genna had started to overhear the police scanners when one night she heard some police men laughing about a boy who´d repeatedly called the station claiming the swimming-pool accident was in fact a murder. Genna sat up straight in her bed to her wonder she wasn´t scared to be exposed no one would believe that boy but … excited.

It took only a little effort to recover the name from that particular boy.

One person in the whole wide world _saw_ the murder. Someone was out there just as smart as she was. A boy called Sherlock Holmes. And one day she would find him and play a game with him, a game so sophisticated, so brilliant, so mind-blowing he would never forget and she was certain he would just _love_ that.


	25. Chapter 25

NOTE: I´m so sorry for the delay but here it is the next chapter! I hope someone is still reading this and you still like it. Again there is some violence and stuff. I hope you like the little bits of backstory I put in in the last chapter. So enjoy!

Chapter 24:

Don´t go home with strangers

They took not more than a few steps before a car speed up and stopped right in front of the pair. Gemma could feel Sherlock´s muscles stiffen where she held him. Slowly he inclined his head and whispered: "If this means we´ll have to run, you should consider leaving me behind." Gemma hesitated she didn´t want him to think her a sentimental fool but well on the other hand she already came all the way down here to rescue him so it couldn´t possibly get much worse. "Sherlock! I´m offended! The knight gets to marry the princess after saving her, wouldn´t want to miss that!" Sarcasm dripping from her voice but both of them kept their eyes fixed on the now opening car door. "I don´t know how you could be so misled to believe yourself the saving prince when clearly the wicked witch suits your personality so much better." A man with silver hair climbed out of the car and leaned over the hood.

"The wicked witch? Really?" She whispered.

"I´m just quoting you: Every fairytale, good old-fashioned villain, something like that, deleted the rest." Sherlock replied lowly.

"If you would learn to store the information better you wouldn´t have to DELETE EVERYTHING!" Gemma didn´t avert her eyes from the silver haired man who stared at the two of them but she was sure to see the slightest smirk appearing on Sherlock´s face from the corner of her eye. With her free hand she´d slowly reached for the gun she´d stuffed in the back of her pants.

"Miss Moriarty?" The man asked incredulous with raised eyebrows. Gemma cringed inwardly by the mentioning of her name. His accent was heavy and his origins lay definitely in the southern American region. "Mister Moran sent me, he stated you might need a hand?" Gemma recalled Moran´s text; maybe he did actually sent help after she didn´t answer any of his calls after he had told her that Sherlock might still be alive. Sebastian had been worried when he´d left her again after her little relapse, he was far more caring than she deserved. Moran could´ve easily tracked her phone or could´ve contacted someone on the inside of the prison. On the other hand it might as well be a trap but even if it was the options were limited and the better one included shooting someone in public and steel his car. Gemma had known for some time that some ominous people were after her organization until now she hadn´t bothered to undertake something. Though to follow a stranger was extremely careless particularly if they knew who she was, even more so if they knew her first in command. Weighing her options again with an injured Sherlock and only a public transportation to get further away non the less her own exhaustion… But the decision was taken out of her hands when Sherlock walked around the car and opened the back door.

"I have to admit your _connections_ do come in handy." With that he sat down and closed the door. She suppressed a sigh before she opened the passenger´s door. "Well, shall we go then?"

Gemma decided to play along and see where it all went. Nevertheless she stayed alert when the silver-haired man sat down in the driver-seat and started the car. If his intention was to kill both of them he would´ve done it right there no need to drive them anywhere first. They were safe for now until Gemma could figure out his intentions behind this and she needed to gain some information from him first anyway.

The foreign man started the car and Gemma pulled down the sun shield to take a look in the mirror. There were still speckles of dried blood on her face and neck then she averted her eyes from her image to observe the back-seat. Sherlock was slightly hunched though he managed to reciprocate her glance. She couldn´t read his quizzical expression eventually she raised one eyebrow before she flapped the sun shield back.

Back to business: "So who are you?" Her voice turned into the familiar sing-song the sound Sherlock remembered quite well. A harmless even endearing melody that was only a cover-up for a threat possibly a deadly one. Sherlock feebly tried to remember the name the man used to gain Gemma´s trust but his mind was still foggy and he couldn´t grasp it; he wouldn´t recall it until a few years from now. He watched Gemma´s back intently cataloguing the small tense muscles in her neck and shoulders.

"Jose Servillas, Miss Moriarty." The man replied with his heavy accent.

Sherlock had to fight the urge to touch her shoulder he must still be higher than he´d thought. But he should communicate that he knew that their ride wasn't safe. With his right hand badly trembling he reached out until he touched her right arm; just the lightest of touches. Her whole body tensed and Sherlock could hear the sharp breath she inhaled before she relaxed again, just a second where her posture unraveled. Eventually Sherlock tapped out a short message in morsecode on her skin: "I know. Danger." Gemma managed to give him the slightest nod before she continued the conversation with their driver.

"Ex-military I presume." She gave him a once over. "Special forces, discharged possibly dishonorable yet how do I come in the honor to receive your help?"

"Yes, ma'am. I was asked to assist you and your name carries some weight in the world."

"You´re looking for a job then?"

"Yes, ma'am. It would be an honor." His reply came a bit too quick a bit too eager.

"Well then, consider yourself on the list." Gemma´s replied coolly, no one would ever get a job at her organization that easy. "Aaaand where exactly are we going?"

"I´ll bring you to a safe place from there we can work out how you can leave the country." That Servillas used the singular and not the plural made her even more alert.

She nodded absentmindedly her mind already set on the task ahead. Half an hour later after a drive over dusty streets they´d left the town and the prison city behind them. When after some time of driving Sherlock hadn´t said anything not even complained once Gemma turned around only to see that he was asleep or unconscious but still breathing, and Servillas talked again.

"So who is he? If I might ask?" His head nodded vaguely in the direction of the sleeping detective.

"You might not." Gemma´s eyes rested on Sherlock´s sleeping form a moment longer. Yes who was he that she took such great a risk to safe him when she originally came here to kill him? Now all her efforts focused on keeping him alive. What for? He would leave again anyway or she would. They weren´t meant for a happy ever after she already had come to that conclusion. Even if she still held feelings of some sort for him that she really didn´t want to fathom he had betrayed her trust without hesitation. Usually there were no second chances.

"You took a great risk, easy enough to tell that you hold some kind of sentiment for this man. Even riskier considering your job to give away a weakness like that." Servillas regarded her with a quizzical expression that he dared to address her in that way would´ve naturally ended in an outburst of fury but it didn´t matter she could as well be her charming self.

"Sure. If you cannot handle a risk." A smirk ghosted over her face.

Shortly after that they reached a small house in another village Gemma didn´t recognize. It was still dark but it would only be a little longer before dawn. When Servillas pulled the car up in front of the house Gemma still hadn´t made up her mind. She got out of the car and stuffed the gun back in the waistband of her shorts. Slowly she walked to the backdoor to retrieve Sherlock while Servillas trudged directly towards the front door keys dangling from his hand. Her eyes rested on his back for a moment marveling at his nonchalant attitude before she leaned inside to wake Sherlock touching his shoulder lightly. Sherlock jerked awake grabbing her wrist and fixing her with wide blue orbs he whispered:

"Moriarty…?"

"Sherlock?" Gemma raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you think –" But was cut off by Sherlock who pulled her in the car and pressed his chapped lips against hers then he pulled back stared at her lips then up into her eyes.

"Oh! Oh right we – we don´t do this anymore? Apologies." His words were slurred and then he fell back into the cushion and Gemma just stood there wide eyed and utterly confused by the wave that crushed over her.

She tumbled back and called after Servillas: "Servillas! Excuse me but you could lend your new boss a hand. I can´t carry him alone!"

Servillas left the door open and quickly ran down the path towards the car.

"Yes ma'am! Sorry ma'am! I will carry him, of course." Gemma stepped aside and let the ex-soldier carry Sherlock towards the house and followed several steps behind them filing away information of the surroundings and the house. One story building made of wood old and run-down standing a bit isolated from the other buildings in the area. Possible escape routes, location of the car-keys, Sherlock´s current state, the amount of bullets in her gun, the location of Servillas´ gun.

Gemma entered the house and everything went sideways.

The handle of a gun hit the side of her head hard and her vision went first blurry eventually completely black.

When she regained consciousness she found herself on the floor. Vaguely she noted the room: a room with a kitchen, table chair, a couch on the left with a television and a stairs on the far end leading to an attic. Only seconds had passed but her gun was gone and Sherlock stood in the middle of the room on the other side of a table with a gun pointing to his forehead, the barrel barely touching the skin. He wore a concerned expression, his forehand in creases.

"Sorry Miss Moriarty but there is only one seat available one the plane and I do not need a new employer since I already have one and he only wants you. He explicitly wants you unharmed so I have no use for this man, sor-" She cut him of mid-word:

"Don´t. You. Dare." Her voice went deadly quite while she lifted herself up. The grey-haired man stared at her before he burst into laughter.

"And what do you want to do about it? My employer told me you were crazy but this…"

"Mr. Servialls you may think me foolish or crazy and you even might have calculated right about the sentiment I hold for this particular person but don´t. Ever. Underestimate. Me." Every single word dripped from her lips like venom slowly and poisonous mirroring the slow steps she took towards him. "The moment you brought us here your death became an inevitable fact to me. Do you want to know why? Because all you people are just too easy to read. Because you are all just ordinary, doing things for the exact same reasons nothing mysterious or profound about you. And you know what else? You don´t deserve to kill this man, he isn´t ordinary and that´s why the only one allowed to end his life-", she stopped to look at ex-soldier and averted her gaze to Sherlock´s eyes for a blink of an eye, "is certainly not you." Servillas gave her a cold smile still holding her gaze slowly starting to squeeze the trigger when Sherlock snapped into action to hit the armed man´s outstretched arms with his forearm and the gun went off missing its target by centimeters. Gemma used the needed and hoped for distraction and sprinted the two steps towards the table, placed her left on it to stabilize her jump over it, retrieving an old kitchen knife (that had been placed on the table with a plate some time ago) in the same move.

With a thud she landed right next to a completely startled Servillas who whirled towards her with his Glock. Gemma always thought herself too short when she was younger but had learned that it brought advantages like agility or speed and she´d learned to use those to her advantage. The blade went into the muscles of the right forearm of Servillas. It was dull and Gemma had to use a lot of strength to break the skin let alone force it into the muscle. The man screamed and Sherlock used the momentum to jump against him with his full weight. They collided on the wooden floor as a sturggling bundle, the gun skittered over the floor boards and Gemma jumped after it but a hand grabbed her leg and she landed on the floor as well. Sherlock groaned and Gemma saw him rolling to the side off of Servillas who immediately hurled himself onto her. His fingers curled around her small neck pushing his thumbs in the skin over her throat. The knife was still stuck in his forearm. Gemma grabbed the handle and started to twist it in his flesh but Servillas only gritted his teeth in pain whilst refusing to loosen the grip on her throat.

Sherlock groaned again in pain with his intact hand he tried to push himself up until he was on all four. His gaze turned to the fighting couple a few feet away from him; quickly he realized something was wrong Gemma´s eyes were wide and full of – he couldn´t believe it- fear. He couldn´t let her die and that was the only thought he could form and the only thing he needed to keep going. Moriarty might think that he didn´t hold any kind emotions for her, but that was not entirely true. Cursing he stumbled towards the kitchen with his right he grabbed an idle frying pan from the herd and turned back determined.

The lack of oxygen let something snap in Gemma´s brain flooding it with noradrenalin and cortisol; memories of drowning in a pool forced themselves to the surface of her consciousness. No useful thought could be obtained to the point that her struggle became nothing more than a futile attempt. Big black dots formed itself in front of her eyes. The darkness started to wear her. Her senses confused reality with memory giving her the feeling of water on her skin; water was everywhere around and inside her. Liquid forcing its way down her windpipe into the lungs. The need for oxygen and the lack of caused sparks of pain sent from her nervous-system into every part of her body; a form of pain that couldn´t be ignored nor eased. Right before her brain shut down her optic-nerve completely she made out the shape of a dark figure standing above Servillas. All of a sudden the pressure on her neck ceased and the man strangling her slumped down limply with his full weight on her. A moment later the weight was lifted from her and she rolled to her side coughing violently her whole body trembling from panic. It might have been moments or minutes maybe hours Gemma had lost her sense for time until she noticed Sherlock had crouched down next to her shivering form a glass of water in his hand. Carefully he supported her head with one hand holding the glass of water to her lips with the other: "Drink." He ordered in his deep baritone to what Gemma could only comply weakly.

Slowly he helped her to sit up. "Are you alright?" Sherlock asked. Gemma didn´t answer just stared at the ex-soldier on the floor with a bleeding wound on the back of his head. Sherlock had hit him with a pan that lay a few feet away from the body.

The only thing Gemma heard was a loud ringing noise in her ears combined with her own uneven breathing. The trembling ceased but the memory was still present clutching with long dark and moist fingers on her mind. 'No, no no no! This is not happening! This is not happening! Not in front of _him_!' Fear was something she just didn´t encounter no matter how dangerous the situation she was always calm and collected for she didn´t fear death or pain or feel. In her line of work fear wasn´t useful and she was lucky she not only lacked the palette of emotional concepts but fear as well. Except this one time when she was a child and Carl Powers had tried to drown her. She´d had the pleasure of experiencing panic-attacks before but all those times during her time at the CIA she´d been alone to deal with it. Now all those memories overwhelmed her because she´d never truly learned to deal with the effects anguish could trigger. It was humiliating. Tears welled up in her eyes, out of helplessness or anger, she didn´t know and she desperately tried not to blink afraid Sherlock would see her cry. Eventually the droplets entangled themselves in her lashes until they dropped from her lids and ran in a curvy line over her cheeks down to her chin where they fell to her shirt forming moist spots. Furiously she wiped them away. To her surprise Sherlock didn´t comment on it in fact he didn´t say anything and Gemma was thankful for that. They sat in silence on the floor.

And then the front door burst open with a deafening noise.


	26. Chapter 26

NOTE: Since I intend to make a few more of those interlude things I thought a little time-stamp thing would be useful (for me too )

Interlude – Sherlock

The Grave

(Set some times after Gemma´s and Sherlock´s faked deaths before Sherlock leaves for South-America)

It was a cold winter morning and a man in dark coat with the collar up against the wind stood on a graveyard. His shoulders were hunched, his hands buried deep in the coat pockets.

Never before had he come here, he wasn´t one for sentiment. But today was different; news had come to him that would chang a lot of things. The words on the gravestone read "G. M." nothing else and strangely appropriate. Even he couldn´t uncover her birthdate or her real name and him of all people should know more at least he´d come the closest.

Briefly he recalled seeing someone else standing in front of a fresh grave, his own one in fact. By now he´d realized how much he´d hurt John because he could feel it himself now.

For quite a long time he hadn´t bothered to spare a thought on _her_. It was easier to simply ignore every emotion that´d tried to crawl its way to the surface of his consciousness. Inside his mind-palace he´d imprisoned her in the deepest darkest pit when he came to realize he wouldn´t stand to delete what they had, to delete her.

"Sherlock!" The harsh voice of his brother ripped him out of his thoughts. Slowly the tall man stepped closer until he stood to his right, Sherlock could hear the sound his ridiculous umbrella made on the ground. "Brother mine… I thought you were over this little amour fou." Mycroft scoffed. His exhalation left small white fogs in the air.

Sherlock refused to answer instead he whirled around and started to stalk away.

"Oh Sherlock don´t be childish!" Mycroft sighed dramatically and Sherlock stopped for a moment. "You can´t seriously believe that Moriarty is still alive. I won´t allow you to pursue that ridiculous plan of yours!"

Sherlock cracked a smile before he carried on.

Mycroft now alone turned back to the grave of course he´d known for some time that the criminal hadn´t killed herself. There had been a corpse like in Irene Adler´s case and at first Mycroft had wanted to believe the world had been rid of her but when he´d learned it had been a set-up he´d at least allowed himself to hope Sherlock would never find out. And Moriarty had at least the decency to stay far away, well she´d. It was an unfortunate coincidence that Sherlock had found out. He took a deep breath and watched the mist vanish, it would be left to him to clean up the mess his brother would cause, just like old times.


	27. Chapter 27

NOTE: New chapter! Finally yeah! During writing I realized that the story moved in an entirely different direction than I planned, so all the stuff I´ve written ahead is mostly useless now, well I´ll keep going. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 26:

Colliding forces

The door swung open in its angels and slammed against the wall. Gemma flinched hard and immediately jumped into action, lunging forward the same time as Sherlock for the gun a few feet away from them on the floor. Their heads collided hard. None of them reached the Glock in this attempt.

"Well, well, well. Seems like I´m late for the party!" The familiar voice of a woman let Gemma´s head snap up Sherlock mirrored her movement holding his forehead where it had hit with Gemma´s. "Quite a miracle honestly seeing you two professionals…" The woman in the doorway gave them an amused look.

Sherlock recognized the accent as Irish and he averted his gaze to the shocked face of the other Irish woman kneeling next to him. There were obvious family resemblances between the two but Sherlock had never heard of any siblings but on the other hand what did he really _know_ about her? At least Mycroft did never speak of any siblings again on the other hand what did Mycroft really tell him?

Gemma stumbled to her feet: "What the HELL are you doing HERE?"

"What am I doing here?" The other woman put her hands on her hips. "If you would look at your phone once in a while Miss I-am-always-so-busy, you would know that your little lap-dog sent me."

Sherlock got up slowly turning towards Gemma: "Do you care to explain what´s going on?"

"Why would he send _you_?" Gemma inquired ignoring Sherlock completely.

"Maybe because you ran off alone without so much as a word, because you have been on drugs the past few weeks, _again_! So many reasons why he might have thought you were in over your head. Well but as always you´ve been lucky at least you look like shit! Mom will be so disappointed!"

"Obviously you have been misled since she is as you can see not alone."

"Ah right, the ominous detective, ya well excuse me but you don´t look so well either." She turned towards Gemma. "That´s him, huh?"

"Shut up! Don´t you-" But the taller woman cut her of mid-sentence: "Dare say another word or I will carve your tongue out – bla bla bla. Wow is anyone ever scared of you? I always wonder because you´re sooo tiny!" For a moment Sherlock thought Gemma would jump the other woman, clearly her sister, by now he was sure.

"Did you know my dear sister never ever cared for another person? You must be really special and possibly completely crazy. She is pretty and smart I give you that but well…you know her, so changeable and before you know it you´re dead. But ya you have already been there, right?" The woman walked through the room passed the table stepped over the body until she reached the cupboards of the kitchen. She started to search them until she found a bottle of tequila and some moderately clean glasses. Her long red hair whipped up and down in a tight ponytail while she moved around until she settled down at the table pouring herself a glass. "Well on the other hand I really don´t appreciate that you hurt my baby-sister." She leaned back in her black body armor changing her gun for the glass and downed the tequila in one gulp. Her eyes were as dark as Gemma´s and she regarded Sherlock with a cold stare. Finally Gemma snapped out of it and stepped forward grabbing the bottle to pour the other glass and downed it before she spoke again.

"Yasmine." Her voice was low and carried a threat to which her sister reacted by raising an eyebrow. "Fine…" Yasmine sighed dramatically and her sister turned back to Sherlock.

"Sherlock as you might have realized by now this is my sis-"

"Sister yes I didn´t suffer any brain-damage. Your older sister, military training, CIA I guess just like you but not as – brilliant."

"Hey! I´m sitting right here you asshole!"

Gemma rolled her eyes but Sherlock only shrugged. "What?"

"Oh I see why you like him. How hard is it to find a person just as horrible as you are?" Yasmine asked sarcastically. "Why is he even alive? I thought he jumped off of a building or did he trick you?" By now Gemma was livid. "Oh! Hahahaha!" Her body rocked with her laughter. "He did trick you! Wow incredible! You must be so proud curly-locks!"

"Yasmine please, just leave I´m not in need of your assistance." She pinched the bridge of her nose exhaling.

"Are you sure of that sister? Because there are a bunch of men after your sweet little ass right now and I can assure you, you do need my help to get out of this country. And by the way what´s with sleepy head?" Gemma sat down pouring a new glass.

"I need him. He most definitely has some information about who´s after my organization; can you get me the intel?"

"Oh yeah a little torture thingy of course!"

Sherlock stepped in again: "Who is after you?"

"Someone I don´t know, not yet. I´ve been a bit pre-occupied these last few weeks."

"You mean you´ve been high." Yasmine said while placing knives from her belt on the table.

"Shut up! I need to think."

"Oh this might take some time you might wanne have a glass as well you look like shit, curly-locks. Besides you´re a bleeding." She pointed one of the knives she just examined at Sherlock´s bleeding side. "I could patch you up, you know."

Sherlock gazed down to his blood-stained shirt with the adrenaline leaving his system the pain came back just like the exhaustion. He might not have a choice though he would prefer not to let Gemma´s obnoxious sister patch him up.

"It´s fine let her do it she´s actually quite good."

Sherlock sat down on the table and Yasmine handed him a glass with tequila. "Drink that. I don´t carry around anesthetics." Sherlock glanced at the glass and reluctantly took it from her hand. The liquor burned its way down his gullet. Gemma busied herself cuffing the still unconscious Servillas whiles her sister retrieved a small medkit from the back she brought with her.

Swiftly she kneeled down next to his side pulling the fabric of the shirt away and while she started to examine the wound she spoke to him in a low voice so Gemma couldn´t hear her on the other side of the room:

"You are the infamous Sherlock Holmes… You´ve caused my dear sister quite some troubles. I have never witnessed my sister getting emotional over anything, angry? Sure, but risking her own business over some flirt?" She paused putting a thread through the needle. "The way she has acted all reckless like that… You must have left quite an impression and honestly I don´t think that´s a good thing. I always feared the day she would be confronted with an emotion that strong because of the outcome. You two are colliding forces that can obviously not co-exist there is only one result. You will destruct each other. So please take this as a friendly advice: stay away, because if you hurt her again there will be no stone to hide under for you. Not even your dear brother will be able to safe you. Yeah, I know your horrible brother." She added as she saw Sherlock´s raised eyebrow when she mentioned the older Holmes. She continued with an even lower voice, the threat she was proposing laced every word: "I will find you and what I will do to you…well let´s just say there are things worse than dying." She didn´t avert her gaze from the wound which she´d almost finished to stitch with slow proficient movements. Sherlock stared at her for a moment not really bothered by her threat but completely taken over by a new conclusion that surfaced and a self-satisfied smile formed on his lips. He mirrored her low voice to prevent Gemma from hearing.

"Your sister once told me the first time she´d killed someone, she did it for someone else, someone she cared about because _he_ had hurt this person. All those years I couldn´t figure out why this particular boy had to die, it was an unsolved case for almost twenty years. When she´d told me this I thought that she´d lied to mask her true motives but now I come to the conclusion that she did indeed speak the truth. She killed Carl Powers because he hurt you." Yasmine´s pupils widened by the mentioning of the name and the needle in her hand slipped a bit too deep into Sherlock´s flesh causing him to grit his teeth in discomfort.

"What happened after she´d killed him for you? Did you ask her to do it? No, no you certainly did not she thought it was her job to protect you. How old was she when she did it? About fourteen? Is that why you stay away from her? Because you can´t stand to look her in the eyes?"

"Stop it!" She whispered visibly distressed now.

"Because you know that you´re a trained assassin but she´s much more than that? She´d killed long before you ever had to or even thought about it. Without remorse or second thoughts; a calculated murder. You do in fact fear her. You think she´s a psychopath and that´s the difference between us. I never feared her. She once told me we´re alike and she was – no she _is_ right. And be sure there are a lot of things worse than dying." He leaned closer to whisper into her ear: "Don´t ever threaten me again."

Yasmine fixed him with the same expression of defiance Sherlock knew well from Gemma; the way her jaw tightened and slightly pushed forward with her eyes narrowed. Without averting her gaze she pushed the needle into his flesh. "We´re done here!" With that she got to her feet.

"Great. I´m done tying this bastard up. Your turn, dear sister. I hope there is a shower in this dump." Gemma stepped away from Servillas who was now tied to a chair slowly regaining consciousness. Gemma strode past Sherlock who put a patch on his wound towards the other room, the bedroom of the small house. Inside to the left was a smaller room that was indeed a bathroom. Yasmine ran after her and handed her the bag she brought. "I was advised to bring you fresh clothes, Sebastian said you would be unbearable if I were to forget." Gemma shut the door with force. "Yasmine! Do not mention his name in front of Sherlock, there are things he is doesn't need to know!" She turned and started to undress. "Wow Gen! Your relationship is based on trust, huh?"

"We do not have any kind of relationship!" Gemma stalked past her sister into the shower. The spray of water was ice cold but it helped to stay awake and alert. The blood rinsed down her skin together with the sweat and the still present feeling of fear and vanished in the sink.

"Ya sure Gen… That´s why you came here risking your life in the worst possible situation with your reputation and your whole organization on the line because you don´t care for him."

Yasmine´s words hit her hard. It was no use denying it to her but it was no use admitting it either.

"A notion of sentiment for old days sake probably. It´s over now so nothing to worry about and no reason to put threats out there, sister. I do have very good hearing, you know?"

"Don´t bullshit me Genna! The way you look at him? It´s not over and I doubt it ever will be." She mumbled the last bit, her sister didn´t need to hear that.

"It´s Gemma! It´s not that hard to remember the name I use now."

"Well, there were so many…Anna, M, James even…"

Gemma didn´t reply. Quickly she dried her shivering form and grabbed the clothes Yasmine handed her from the bag. Yasmine watched her sister dress noting the new scars she hasn´t seen yet. Hastily she looked away when she realized her sister caught her staring. "I´m sorry, you know that – that happened to you." She murmured turning towards the door again. "I´ll get you your information don´t want to watch you go down."

Sherlock watched Yasmine and Gemma emerge from the bedroom; their resemblance was even stronger now: both were wearing black pants and a black tank top, with the different shades of red hair and dark eyes. "Take a shower, curly-locks while Genny and I coax some information out of this idiot! There are some clothes in the cupboard."

"Genny mmh?" Sherlock walked past them to take the offered shower with an amused smile.

When he´d shut the door behind him Yasmine turned to Gemma with a mischievous smirk: "Or you could always join him in the shower… I don´t mind."

Gemma didn´t acknowledge her suggestion with an answer.


	28. Chapter 28

NOTE: A lot faster this time! Back on track for now. Enjoy.

Chapter 27:

An attempt in letting something go

Sherlock shuddered under the icy cold spray of the shower though the water managed to clear his head and eased the pain of the torture in his whole body for a few merciful minutes. Reluctantly he stared at the joints of his fingers that Gemma had meticulously set back in their right position. It was still painful but he could move his hand properly again and that at least was a good thing.

Everything else around him was not. Just in the other room a man was probably already tortured and his inner John told him that that was morally and ethically problematic, well that man tried to kill him not an hour ago… Still he felt uneasy. His mind began to wander while he started to scrub the remains of last night off.

The moment he´d realized in his merely conscious state back in the prison that Gemma had actually shown up and was alive just as he´d suspected, he´d felt a strange tingle in his gut maybe something along the line of happiness or relief even. It was fatuitous. Even more so because the mere fact that she´d shown up displayed her emotional entanglement and every single deduction he´d been able to make since had just proven this point. Gemma Moriarty had missed him, had grieved over his loss to a point that´d endangered her web. Sherlock was torn between the reminiscent sentiment for her and his original plot.

He´d loved the game but it was obviously over the curtains had fallen and there would not be a sequel. They knew each other too well by now, he mused and it was most obvious to Sherlock that Gemma was not interested in playing anymore. Slowly he began to find her tedious and mundane in her attachment to him, all her actions that once were bright and vibrant in colour to him now had a dull aftertaste. He honestly dreaded the fact that it hadn´t ultimately ended on the rooftop. Their affair should have never become ordinary.

Sherlock would have liked to leave, go back to London to his old life and leave her behind, to await her return in a few years with a new dazzling case created just for him. And maybe the circle would begin anew when they would both have matured. But he couldn´t do that since she´d destroyed his life with so much commitment.

There was only one thing for him left to do here. Drag her back to England, to Mycroft to be more precise and force her to undo all of it.

Methodically he stored all the unwanted feelings he still held for her in the deepest darkest place in his mind-palace and locked them away. Not without encountering remorse since he´d savoured the tiny flower that had grown inside him and he now condemned to die in a place where the light of his consciousness would never reach it again. Gemma had been the first to plant the idea of a deep, passionate, all-consuming love into the workings of his mind. It had been enjoyable for the time being but has lost its purpose. Just an irrelevant new fact to be encountered, labelled as pointless in itself and stored away maybe for a later reference, maybe someday deleted.

The aim was clear again, so he thought until a second later he found himself confronted with the memory of her shivering body pressed against his side with tear-streaked cheeks and his name slipping in a whisper from her lips. Her weakness had somehow been endearing to him and while his thoughts unasked revisited that scene in the foreground of his mind something else clicked into place.

Sherlock stepped out of the shower his lips almost completely blue and his limbs trembling. Inside the cupboard next to the bedroom door he found a white shirt and jeans that fitted him well enough for now while thought after thought, memory after memory formed precise deductions.

Pieces of a puzzle he hadn´t yet seen to be one placed themselves and formed a new picture, a terrifying one that good Sherlock´s mind racing and his heart pumping in the best of ways. There was a case right before his eyes and he´d been too preoccupied to realize it. A dangerous scheme plotted by someone unknown to lead him and Gemma here.

"Brilliant!" He exclaimed but stopped in his tracks back to the main room with his hand hovering above the door-handle. Not his case he reminded himself ruefully not his at all. His goal needed to be to get his life back he could not involve himself in Gemma´s affairs. The hesitation lasted only a moment longer before he marched through the door.


	29. Chapter 29

NOTE: Okay another interlude thingy, since there isn´t happening much sexy time now and in the near future… so here is some from the past. I´m kind of sad since the two of them don´t get along so well right now, I´d to write something from the past! And I´d already planned this one so you get it earlier than expected! So warning for kind of graphic description of sex. Hope you enjoy, well that sounds kinda wrong now… anyway enjoy .

Interlude – Sherlock/Gemma

Pillow Talk

(The second day of Sherlock´s and Gemma´s stay at the hotel back when everything was still easy, Sherlock´s POV)

In the moment right before awakening when the conscious mind hasn´t yet overcome the unconscious state of a restful deep sleep Sherlock felt contempt, maybe even happy. He stirred and in the haze of awakening he believed for a moment to be at home in his bed. His confusion only grew when he heard the breathing pattern of another person pressed against his side. Radiating warmth with legs intertwined with his own and a head resting heavy on his shoulder. He blinked a few times to see an unruly mob of dark hair next to his face and slowly he remembered the events of last night and he groaned already certain he´d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

All his life he´d chosen to be an observer of human interaction and not to get involved. For once he´d thrown caution over board and let other regions of his body decide; obviously a poor choice. Even more so including the fact that he not only had his emotions get the better of him but also including the fact that he´d done so with a psychopathic instable mass-murderer. He groaned again loathing his poor decision-making. But what he really felt wasn´t regret, to be honest with himself he had enjoyed the intercourse more than he would like to admit. Absentminded he started to count the white outlines of faded injuries on the pale skin of the sleeping criminal. In this weak sentimental state of mind Sherlock was in right now he wished they could just stay here in this hotel-room in this bed hiding from the world that would probably sooner than later force them to part again. The bliss of feeling deeply connected to another person was something he´d never encountered before and would rather not lose again so soon. Gemma stirred and the peaceful feeling of being alone and not at the same time ended.

Gemma had vanished into the bathroom and Sherlock could hear the shower distantly while he stared at the ceiling.

After a moment of contemplation Sherlock followed her into the bathroom. He was surprised to see her standing under the stream of water. Dark locks of hair matted to her head. She was very still and her eyes were glazed over and distant. A few minutes passed until she snapped out of it searching her dark eyes met his. Her expression completely horrified. Silence hung over them and maybe there was a low sob escaping her lips but Sherlock couldn´t be sure with the constant roaring of the water so close to his ears. Instead of speaking she threw her arms around him closing the distance between their naked bodies. Her fingernails dug deep in the skin of his shoulder-blades clutching to him as if her life depended on it.

Sherlock blinked once startled and confused and then the moment of weakness was gone and there was something else. She pressed her lips against the crook of his neck. His arms previously useless at his side lifted to her hips an involuntary reaction to the sexual advance. Sherlock closed his eyes letting his head fall back as she dragged her parted lips over his carotid artery. Under his fingertips he felt the soft flesh of her hips. Speaking of bad decisions… he felt himself getting hard very quickly as Gemma pushed her body even closer against him biting his neck softly. Sherlock decided it didn´t really matter at this point anyway. Slowly he pushed her backwards against the cold tiles and without much effort lifted her up until she could wrap her legs around his waist. His long fingers winded in her hair at the back of her head, his grip tightened in the wet mess and he tugged it back. Gemma gasped with her throat bared. Sherlock leaned closer to her neck beginning to kiss the sensitive skin. "Sherlock…" Her voice was barely audible a low and weak whisper but still a clear demand to Sherlock´s ears. Gemma lifted her hips a bit to change the angle. Dreadfully slow in Sherlock´s opinion she sank down on his length with a relieved sigh.

Sherlock closed his eyes letting go of her hair wrapping his arm around her shoulder. This felt by far better than it should. Probably it was so much more enthralling because she was forbidden – well should be at least be forbidden to him. Maybe because they were so much alike…

"Shut up Sherlock!" Dark orbs fixed him through thick lashes. He raised his brows in confusion.

"I didn´t say anything." He stated a little out of breath pushing her against the tiles a bit too forceful but she didn´t seem to mind.

"You´re thinking too goddamn loud! It´s distracting and if you don´t stop I will gag your mind!" And with that said she moved her hips in a delicious motion that let Sherlock´s mind go completely blank.

"Better." She murmured with her lips close to the corner of his mouth. "And now you better end what you´ve started my brilliant detective."

They were lying on the bed again both equally exhausted Gemma took a drag from a cigarette she held between her fingers.

"So not a virgin then…" She said more to herself than to Sherlock.

"Why would you think that?" He asked taking the cigarette from her fingers.

"Mmhh I told you before I had an eye on you for many years and there never was someone you´re involved with. At least not that I could find… what usually means there is none."

"Well, if you say so." He smirked more to himself. "But maybe I prefer to keep my encounters private."

"Do tell."

"The concept of private is not that hard to understand."

"You are boring… but skilful I´ve to admit" She pouted trying to take the cigarette back but Sherlock held it out of her reach.

"The basic knowledge of the female body is easy to acquire." He stated matter-of-factly.

Gemma chuckled amused.

"Oh honey really? Do you care to elaborate?"

"What do you…?" Sherlock started his question but at Gemma´s raised eyebrow and her lopsided smirk realisation dawned on him. "Oh. Ohhh!"

Gemma laughed out loud at Sherlock´s changing facial expression. He leaned over her to throw the cigarette in an empty glass on the bedside table. Now he smirked loaming over her for a moment before trailing down her body with tender kisses.

"Right here is a spot most women find to be arousing." Sherlock started his explanation in a low rumbling voice slowly pushing to fingers inside her for a few inches before crooking them slightly getting an immediate reaction from his lover. "If you combine the effort with the usage of tongue first carefully applied around this area…" Sherlock stopped and lowered his head to demonstrate his statement this time causing her to throw her head back into the cushions exclaiming a curse. "You see, if you get the desired response you simply apply more pressure and slow movement." Again he emphasized his explanation.

"Oh god, go on!"

"Tell me…" Slowly he dragged his tongue over her clit moving his long fingers very slowly before finishing the question. "Where were you born?"

Sherlock saw the realisation on her face and she gritted her teeth but nonetheless answered: "Bastard! Hong Kong." Sherlock continued too slowly for her liking so she moved her hips against his fingers earning her a hard slap against her thigh. "Do not move." He commanded grabbing her hip-bone with his free hand. Gemma never knew how arousing she would find it since normally she was the one ordering.

"Where did you grow up?" Just the deep rumbling of his interrogative voice in this compromising situation made this delicious torture so much better.

"I could not answer, you know." She moaned again her pelvic muscles contracted around Sherlock´s fingers. "But you will." He smirked before using his tongue again in the most delicious way. "You already know the answer."

"Mmmh. Who is your first in command?"

"Never going to answer that one…" Her eyes were shut tightly and her fingers curled into fists in his hair. Quickly her breathing pattern became more uneven and Sherlock knew that he didn´t have much time left to ask questions but instead of choosing actually relevant ones he was more curious about something else.

"How many –" But Gemma interrupted him mid-sentence: "Three! There were three including you!" She rattled off almost shouted the answer to the unfinished question. Sherlock was satisfied and it didn´t take much more of his ministrations to tip her over the edge. The fists in his curls tightened and the rest of her muscles followed suit when she came with a deep moan and a lip-bite that Sherlock found immensely arousing for some reason.

"Oh dear that was – extraordinary." Gemma whispered still panting and then she smiled at him with pupils still dilated from the orgasm. A few minutes she didn´t move catching her breath.

"Thank you." Sherlock replied with a self-satisfied smile sitting up between her thighs.

"Oh don´t be a prick about it!" Gemma shoved him away from her. "Let´s get something to eat. I´m starving!"


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 28:

The devil you know

You said "I do" to  
>the wrong side*<p>

*Kovacs - The devil you know

Gemma stood next to her sister over the bleeding man.

"What do you suggest?" Her sister asked concern lacing her words.

"I honestly don´t know. I have to find the loose threads and cut them off but by then there will be new ones, it´s no good. If I cut off one head another will grow… I need to find the source but by then my organisation could be damaged beyond repair, let alone my reputation." Gemma threw her hands in the air and let them fall to her sides again. It was no use to panic over this, it had happened before and she´d dealt with it but never on such a big scale. She felt her sister´s eyes on her when she walked over to the kitchen table to pour herself another drink. Someone was trying to destroy her not only that someone was trying to take over her business starting at the outer ring and surly would not stop there. Servillas didn´t know who employed him just the name of some spokesman but he did know his way around in the criminal world and had heard rumours that his employer tried to buy off other parts of her business. Mostly small and minor bits and pieces but still.

Suddenly Gemma realized why Moran had come to find her so quickly after her disappearance though he never told her. Usually he would´ve waited at least half a year, the only reason could´ve been trouble. Trouble he didn´t want to voice until she would´ve been back on her feet and focused again. Well, trouble had found her first.

"We need to leave maybe to New York? Or back to Europe?" Yasmine suggested.

"We?" Gemma turned raising an eyebrow.

"If you´re going down I should aid you. I´m still your sister."

"No. I never involved you there is no connection between us and that´s what will keep you alive. Your work is still with the CIA and those freelance activities you like to involve yourself in so much."

"It´s my decision, Gen!"

Gemma turned towards her sister to tell her once and for all she would never involve her when Sherlock came back into the room.

"What did he say?" Sherlock inquired nodding towards the hunched over figure on the chair.

"None of your concern. I´ve to make a few calls." And with that she left the two of them leaving the house. Slowly she walked the path down towards the car pulling out her phone in the process and finally called Sebastian back.

"Boss?" He picked up after the first ring and Gemma couldn´t help but roll her eyes.

"Yes, who else?"

"Thank god you´re alive!" He was honestly relieved.

"What did you think? I´m not easy to kill, you of all people should know that, Sebastian. And why the hell did you think it necessary to contact Yasmine?"

"Are you serious? You ran off without a word for that bastard and I receive intel about a threat to the organisation; Gemma someone is after you! Was I supposed to just sit put and wait?!" Moran was agitated by now.

"Sebsatian, I´m alright. Can we stop for a moment and talk about the threat? We´ve a hostage the guy was sent to capture me and he told us several parts of the organisation have been compromised. Small and insignificant ones but nonetheless. You understand where this is going?" Gemma pinched the bridge of her nose feeling a headache.

"Us? So Yasmine is with you? And he? Is he alive then?"

"Yes, yes Yasmine found us. Concentrate on the difficulties we´re facing."

"Yeah, I did a bit of digging and found at least four compromised smaller business partners, mostly drug and weapon dealers. I see the storm that´s coming… Going after one of them is pointless since it´s most likely our mystery opponent will have compromised new ones by the time we fix the current ones. That will ruin our reputation, the organisation will fall apart and the mysterious man will take over. So I couldn´t get a hold of the head of our advisory, yet. What are we going to do?" Moran´s voice was strained and tired; Gemma supposed he spent the whole day trying to find some kind of information.

"Good, we´re on the same page. I´ll get rid of Yasmine and Mr. Holmes and sent them to America and Europe. I´m coming back as well and work out a plan until then. I need you to cut the loose threads off of business make it very clear that we´re displeased. Let one of the others make a list of people with enough influence to pull something like that off."

"Will do. Though I suppose you already know who is capable and holds a grudge against you…"

"Yes I do but none of them is likely."

"Alright, and Gemma please do stay in contact this time."

"What are you my baby-sitter?"

"Yeah kind of I guess." Moran muttered and with that he hung up. Wow, he hung up! Gemma contemplated calling him again to tell him that he should watch his behaviour but decided that he was probably majorly pissed and to be honest had every right to be. The headache grew stronger and she was tired, hungry and very aware of the forlornness of the situation at the moment. She reminded herself while walking back to the house that she´d managed to outlive worse than that but couldn´t fully convince herself that she would this time without help.

Gemma re-entered turning to her sister than back to Sherlock. "We´re good to go then?" It was more a rhetorical question. Her fingers wound around the gun on the table. Swiftly she took two steps and shot the man tied to the chair. Sherlock and Yasmine both flinched at the loud noise of the firing gun. Gemma sighed and let the gun sink; she wished she could just go back to her main trade where she stood above all this nasty business. She preferred wearing expensive suits and dealing with information and favours. This was not what she´d worked for; to go back to this! She´d never assumed someone would dare to undermine her organisation like this. By hindsight it was all her own fault, she should never have allowed herself to get involved with Sherlock. But she´d just been so bored… Everything had become easy and predictable, her throne would have stayed untouchable not even Mycroft Holmes or the whole CIA or any kind of organisation could have done something about it. They had co-existed until one day she´d died. On the other hand this was some kind of distraction something to set her mind on. She wouldn´t be bored until this cat-and-mouse game was solved or she would have been killed.

Yasmine had come with a jeep they now used to head back to La Paz. No one knew that she had come to aid Gemma and frankly no one knew she existed in the first place so they could spent the night in a hotel without having to fear to be discovered before they would all take different planes. The ride to La Paz was uneventful none of them felt like talking.

Intentionally Gemma didn´t neither pay the hotel nor did insist on taking a suite what she normally would have done. Yasmine was left to pay for three normal rooms and a set of new clothes they bought at an over-priced hotel shop (the hotel was at least an expensive one with boutiques, Gemma had insisted on at least that much comfort after the exhausting trip) before everyone headed to their rooms.

Eventually Gemma showered again and dressed herself in panties and a black tank-top before she fell on the bed and ordered room-service. She´d finished half of her meal which consisted of some expensive salad and fancy grilled fish when someone knocked on her door.

Gemma sighed she was exhausted and just wanted to have a smoke and go to bed. For a moment she considered ignoring the unwelcome guest but the knocking just became more persistent. 'Sherlock…can´t you just go to sleep?' She thought annoyed but got up anyway and opened the door. Sherlock didn´t seem to mind her state of undress or the fact that she stood in the doorway not planning to let him in. He simply strode past her into the room. Gemma rolled her eyes behind his back.

"Why do come in Mr. Holmes! To what unhappy circumstances do I owe this visit?" She made an inviting gesture behind Sherlock´s back as he walked into the hotel-room.

"We need to talk." Was his short pressed answer.

"Do we now?" She shut the door a bit too forceful and followed him back into the room.

To her genuine surprise Sherlock pulled a gun from his jacket as he turned to face her. Well, at least something unexpected from him, maybe he was not as boring now as Gemma had thought. He must have slipped the gun from her sister´s back she was really thoughtless sometimes.

"The game is over. You´ve your troubles and I do have mine. Mine are basically caused by you and yours don´t affect me. I decided that I´m more than unwilling to play your little games anymore, all I want is my life back, to return home and the thing standing in my way is your false identity that destroyed mine. The only logical conclusion to my problem is to bring Moriarty back and eliminate Ricarda Brooke a fairly easy solution, won´t you agree? So here is what´s going to happen: In one hour a flight to Europe leaves from the airport and the two of us will be on it! I´ll drag you back to London and force you to undo your misdeeds." Gemma listened to an irritated Sherlock by now even more surprised that he would dare to threaten her like this.

"Oh really, Sherlock? You will make me undo it? Or did you mean your brother? He already tried once…" Her eyes glinted dangerously assessing Sherlock then she just shrugged and went on before he could say another word. "You know the old saying, Sherlock? In love and war everything is fair… And honey I _do_ love war." She lilted. "But what fun is war when your opponent is already defeated? So do not bore me, Sherlock."

"You will come with me or I will kill you and bring you back to London in a body bag!" Sherlock spat through gritted teeth.

Gemma looked up at him fixing him through dark lashes taking a measuring step forward until the barrel pressed against her sternum. "Will you now?" Sherlock switched the safety of the gun off not wavering under her stare.

The hint of smile danced over her face when she stepped closer into Sherlock´s personal space. The gun pressed hard against her bones until Sherlock´s arm started to bend. She grabbed the lapels of his new dress-shirt to pull him to her eye-level. The gun slipped over her skin pointing upwards leaving an angry red line on her pale skin. Tentatively she licked her lips carefully watching Sherlock´s reaction. His eyes darted to her lips for a brief moment.

"And yet I see your pupils dilate and the beating of your pulse quicken under your skin." Their faces were only inches apart when Gemma went on her lips almost brushing his as she spoke: "You will not kill me. I once thought that this was the difference between us but I guess we are even now since I found myself unable to end your life. So do not make threats you can´t live up to."

"Maybe we both have changed." Sherlock replied calmly re-adjusting the gun against her chin.

"Mmmhh maybe…" She hummed. "I´m in a generous mood today so I´ll offer you a deal. You are going to help me with my current – troubles and I promise to make yours go away."

She aspirated the end of the sentence and Sherlock inclined his head the smallest bit awaiting the inevitable touch of lips - that never came. Instead Gemma turned away from him putting some distance between them. "Do you take my offer?"

"You suggest I entangle myself with your world? To side with the devil?" Sherlock raised a questioning brow.

"Side with the devil you know aaaand you won´t be bored, promise." She turned and winked at him. "Or you can always leave, I´m not holding you back. You´re the main reason I find myself in those unfortunate circumstances therefor I suggest you might as well aid me to untangle the mess. But if you do leave: stay the fuck out of my business! I will not and I repeat that bit I will not come to your rescue again."

"It´s daring to suggest I´m the reason for your current troubles if I recall correctly you staged your little game back in London for your own amusement and if I might add tried to kill me. So forgive me if I do not feel guilty."

"True. But it was not me who decided to betray you and by the way you knew very well I wouldn´t react kindly to that. Besides it was never just for my amusement…"

"However I´m not the criminal mass-murdering psychopath in this room. I assume that has something to do with your situation."

"Are you not, my dear? And do keep up: it is anti-social personality disorder these days. Personally I don´t think I fit the description just one bit, do you really think you fit in there? Why bother with categories made-up by boring ordinary people?" She stepped to the coffee-table and fingered a cigarette out her new purse and lit it blowing the smoke in Sherlock´s direction. She retrieved a small gun that her sister had given to her earlier that evening hidden from Sherlock´s view with her free hand. "To answer your former suggestion: I do not really have enemies, even your dear brother was not my enemy. We co-existed just fine before you delivered him the opportunity of a life-time on a golden plate to get to me."

Sherlock let the gun sink to his side and exhaled before he spoke again: "You know very well that it was not my decision to make, when he found evidence of our – affair I had to… I tried to warn you to stay away but you were just too preoccupied to _listen_!"

"Oh dear an affair? How daring… I knew – but still." Sherlock could hear the hurt still evident in her voice she didn´t care to mask anymore and felt himself grew more and more irritated with her again.

"What did you want me to do?! To marry you?! Make it official: The famous detective entangled himself with a criminal? Not any criminal but the so-called Napoleon of crime? How would that have worked out for both of us?!" He was almost shouting now.

"Don´t worry about it, the deed is done. For the record I´m not the marrying type. For now I´m in need of your professional skills. This will be strictly business and it will stay that way." Secretly Gemma found it as amusing to see Sherlock get emotional for once as she found it sad to see he obviously did care more than he´d ever shown. They might have worked out together if it weren´t for the Ice-man but as she told him there was no use in dwelling about elapsed opportunities.

"If we´re talking business: I want payment."

Her lips curled into a crooked smile. "What kind of payment?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and Gemma chuckled amused turning fully back to Sherlock with the cigarette in her left and a small gun in her right hand pointing at his head. "So you see I tend to be very resourceful and you still fall for the slightest distraction when it comes to me, that is kind of endearing but a big weakness you can´t allow yourself anymore. Just because I don´t plan to kill you at the moment doesn´t mean I won´t."

"As far as I see it we´re on the same side with not killing each other right now so there is really no use in pointing a gun at me." Sherlock stated dryly.

"Yeah, I just wanted to show off." She threw the gun on a nearby armchair and truly it was just luck she´d thrown in her purse a bit earlier. "You will be paid for your services in whatever currency you prefer… Remember you would help to rid the world of some bad people, though. That´s what you like to do, don´t you?"

She slowly walked back to him looking up at him with big eyes. "Pleeeasseee…?"

"Oh don´t be coy, doesn´t suit you in the slightest. I guess if you pay me and there is not really anything else to keep me occupied… Fine."

Gemma clapped her hands gleefully. Though she had to admit she was surprised how easily he´d reconsidered to join forces rather than to just kill her. Sentiment was a weird thing.

"Great and now get out! I know you don´t bother with sleeping too mundane for you or something but I do need some beauty rest."


End file.
